The View From Where I Sit
by darcysfriend
Summary: Someone thoroughly unexpected gives Fitzwilliam Darcy a very, very early Hunsford-like experience, and the strangest of friendships results from it. Great changes happen that nobody expects. EPILOGUE NOW UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Author's Note: Alright, first time to write, folks, and I'm not even sure if I'm formatting this correctly. **

_Blurb: Someone thoroughly unexpected gives Fitzwilliam Darcy an early Hunsford experience, and the strangest of friendships results from it. Unimaginable changes happen!_

* * *

"Elizabeth Bennet, you will come back here at once! Liiiizzzzyyy!

The Longbourn mistress' frantic screech pierced through every wall in the house that morning, and was met by a groan or a grimace by all the young ladies therein as they gathered in the breakfast parlor. After all, they had just spent most of the previous night, on to the wee hours of the morning, dancing and making merry at the Netherfield Ball, and were all still rather tired. However, having already been greatly roused already by the ruckus of the morning, each tried to perk up somewhat, if only to be functional for the inevitable exchange of impressions about the ball. From elsewhere in the house, they heard a door slam, followed by footfalls scurrying away towards the general direction of the Longbourn rose patch.

And then more screeching: "Elizabeth Grace Bennet, you will be the death of me!"

The oldest of the young ladies, Jane, softly sighed, almost to herself. "It seems Lizzy is not of the same mind as Mama in this matter."

Lydia, the youngest, laughed with a nonchalant flip to her wrist. "Oh la! Even I can hardly blame her this time! To be married to such a nincompoop! Were he to even don a redcoat, it would not make him a jot more agreeable!"

"In times such as this, it would serve us well to remember that our parents are to be deferred to with the utmost …," Mary began her remark most piously, but was quickly shushed to silence by the younger Kitty, as Mary glared her disapproval. "I want to hear everything!" whined Kitty, straining her ears some more.

From way-about the bookroom of Mr. Bennet, the stringent voice of the matron pierced on. "Oh! Mr. Bennet! You must come immediately! We are all in an uproar!" The girls could barely make out the voice of their father, so encompassing was the tone of his companion. "Mr. Bennet! How can you vex me so! Of course I speak of Lizzy! She won't marry Mr. Collins, and surely you must know how advantageous this is for her! You must make her marry him!"

At this time, Elizabeth – the poor unfortunate soul who was the cause of all these vexations – had returned to the house after stomping and whacking out her temper among the wild grass in the garden just beyond her father's bookroom's window. Having heard her mother enter the venerated den, she was determined to likewise present her own case to the patriarch. She cast open the door with trepidation, steeling herself with the thought that she was, indeed, in a battle for her life.

"There! There she is, that ungrateful girl! Tell her, Mr. Bennet. She _will _marry Mr. Collins!" cried the matron, her eyes shooting bolts of lightning at her wayward daughter.

"Papa, please …" Elizabeth began. "I cannot …"

"Hush, Elizabeth. Come in, please," Mr. Bennet quietly replied. Then glancing up the doorway where the rest of the Bennet girls had congregated to better view all happenings, he called out, "And as for the rest of you girls, back to your own occupations, if you please. Go on now. Shut the door, Elizabeth."

So with a sense of foreboding, Elizabeth did as she was told and tried again to begin her plea. Papa stopped her with a raised hand. "Hush, Lizzie." With a sigh, he looked at the two women. "Well, it seems we have a problem here, ladies. Elizabeth, your mother tells me that she will never speak to you ever again if you don't marry Mr. Collins …" there was Mrs. Bennet's look of triumph, "and I will never see you again if you do."

Silence laid thick and oppressive. The women stood there glued – until one broke the impasse by hurling herself in the arms of her father.

"Thank you, Papa! Thank you!" she cried as she peppered Mr. Bennet's face with kisses. In turn, he laughed with delight, and held his favorite daughter in his arms. "Now, now, Lizzie, you know I cannot part with you that easily." And he laughed again.

A few feet away, forgotten by the other two, Mrs. Bennet stood stunned. Unaccountably, a feeling blossomed in her heart – a deep, abiding sadness that made her wonder how long had actually festered within her. It was not jealousy in itself – never! - but a stark recognition of being an outsider in her own home, specifically in the world of Mr. Bennet and his avowed favorite daughter. It gave her a feeling of loss, somehow. Tears suddenly pricked her eyes. She needed to escape.

In that quiet celebration by father and daughter, they did not notice one uncharacteristically melancholic woman slip away. From the hallway closet, she retrieved her wrap and left the house to trudge into the Longbourn woods where she could take her thoughts in the hollow of her hands, simply to review and make sense of the chaos of her heart.

* * *

Three miles away at Netherfield, a young gentleman had risen with the sun, all set to take his customary morning ride. "I am not certain what time I will be back, Terence," he quietly told his valet, "but if things go to plan, we shall be to London sometime today. Should Mr. Bingley wake soon, inform him that if I do not see him at the breakfast table, I would speak with him." He then muttered under his breath, "I intend this to be a really long fortifying ride first."

Terence bowed respectfully. He knew his master barely slept a wink last night, troubled as he was by something he was not sure what. Whatever it was, Terence hoped it did not have anything to do with the almost joyful smirk that he saw Miss Caroline Bingley wear last night after a small whispered conversation with Mr. Darcy just prior to retiring to his chambers. Terence shivered a little. For as long as he had known the lady, she had always behaved as though she had a special claim on Mr. Darcy, much to the gentleman's chagrin. The trusted valet shivered again.

Fitzwilliam Darcy never felt as free anywhere as when he was riding the wind atop his stallion Kublai. This morning, he particularly needed to experience that freedom – there were too many things swirling in his head, too many ghosts he wanted to exorcize.

Foremost of which was an alluring head of curls that framed the loveliest pair of eyes he had ever seen.

Elizabeth Bennet. Unconsciously, Darcy let her name be softly whispered into the wind. _Elizabeth …._

Aagh. Not again. "Faster, Kublai, faster!" he egged on, as he lowered his head nearer his beast's muscled neck. "We shall be done with these blasted daydreams soon! Faster!"

And Fitzwilliam Darcy rode with both fury and exhilaration across the terrain, taxing every sinew of his fierce companion and even himself as he strained with Kublai. Over two hours they rode, back and forth along the borders of the Netherfield estate, all the way up and down and across. Finally, with muscles spent, Darcy at last willed his mind to clear, and his breathing relaxed. He dismounted then patted his friend on the side.

"Come, Kublai, I know there is a brook nearby, near the western border. Let us go there then head back, shall we?" The two companions ambled along, Darcy leading Kublai by the reins. As they neared the brook, he heard it: the sound of a woman weeping, interspersed with soft wails of "Good God, show me what to do!" Curious yet cautious, Darcy quietly broke through the bushes, and was met with the most astounding sight ever.

It was Mrs. Bennet crying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Esther Bennet, nee Gardiner, was not an unintelligent person. True, she was not at the level of her husband Avery, who was both esoteric and worldly in his quest for knowledge – but Esther herself was never deficient in any way, and even leaned more toward practicality. It was just that, well, through the years she had been given more to nerves and flutterings, and admittedly, these got steadily worse as her daughters each reached marriageable age.

She herself was a young bride of 17 when she came to Longbourn, amid grave reservations within Avery Bennet's family. True, she only had her five thousand pound dowry to recommend her, but she was determined to prove them wrong. She wanted to be every bit a helpmeet to Avery, especially when the elder Mr. Bennet passed, making Avery the new master of Longbourn. The estate had been dwindling in income through the last few generations, but Esther was certain that she and Avery would be able to turn that around despite the entail that held it in some kind of bondage – at least, Esther reasoned, they could build proper savings for their children, if God would not bless them with sons (which she was still confident would never happen).

But what was a young inexperienced mistress to do if at every attempt to share her ideas, she would be dismissed with condescension? She often heard, "Do not worry your pretty head about that, my dear … I have things under control." Or at other times she was harshly put down with words like "You are a tradesman's daughter. What can you know?" Then off she would be sent to look over the menus for the day. She tried, she really did … but alas, too much and too often of immovable put-downs had well eroded whatever self-esteem a young naïve bride would have.

It was not that Avery Bennet was a bad man. No. But he was nine and twenty when they married, and perhaps was a little too set in his ways to really listen to a lady twelve years his junior, even if said lady was his wife. Esther liked his even temper at the start, a perfect foil, she thought, to her more vivacious nature – but all too soon, that even temper translated more into a completely absorbed self-sufficiency that left no room for her. Except in the bedchambers, of course. There, Avery remained the gentle but passionate lover he had always been – and at every turn of having produced a child, Esther would pray that it would be a son, so as to break the entail. She simply wanted to protect her children and all the other inhabitants of Longbourn, if she could.

And even in that she failed.

"Good God, show me what to do!" she cried softly to herself. Sitting there on a rock beside the brook, Esther saw her life flash before her , and for the first time in many years, she mourned the girl she used to be. She rocked as she quietly wept, while the brook rocked and wept with her.

* * *

Darcy heard the quiet sobbing, and was surprised to see Mrs. Bennet. Where was the painful screeching he had come to associate with this woman? The lady was obviously distraught, and the gentleman part (the bigger part, yes) of Fitzwilliam Darcy wanted to approach her and offer his help … but he hesitated. This was Mrs. Bennet, after all! The uncouth, unruly, deviously calculating woman who truthfully scared much out of Darcy, though his Master of Pemberley persona would never own to such a thing. This was she! He felt he had not the fortitude to bear such a woman in close proximity.

And yet …_ "Fitzwilliam Darcy, that woman needs help!"_ Aaagh … when did his conscience beget his mother's voice?

It was a losing battle, therefore, and Darcy knew it. He would never forgive himself if he just turned away. He was no unfeeling lout, after all. He was a powerful man, and if it be within his power to aid someone, then surely he would?

"Madam?" he hesitantly and softly called from a few feet away.

Mrs. Bennet whirled around with a startled gasp. "Mr. Darcy!" she breathily said, the last syllable even catching the tailend of a sob that she tried to curtail. Awkwardly, she curtsied, and tried to laugh. "Oh heavens! What a way to meet up! Surely, sir, you cannot creep up on unknowing ladies and find them at their best … oh heavens! Are you lost, sir? Do you need me to point out the road for you?" Flustered, Esther Bennet tried to smooth down her skirt and hair, and sought to control her breathing and hide her red-rimmed eyes.

"Mrs. Bennet." Darcy spoke quietly but firmly to her, just to break the gibbering monologue that he knew would come. Darcy knew that oftentimes, it was the Master of Pemberley mien that got the job done. True enough, Mrs. Bennet straightened up a bit and looked up at the gentleman, though with no little hesitation. Darcy took a little step toward her, with one hand palm out, half-extended to her. "Mrs. Bennet. Please. It is perhaps I who may be of service to you, madam."

"Mr. Darcy, I have not the pleasure of understa …" she began to say.

"Mrs. Bennet," again it was Darcy with a firm but gentle voice. "Forgive me for being indelicate, madam, and for interrupting you, but I just saw and heard you weeping. Please … if I can be of help, allow me." Even as he said this, Darcy heard his mind whisper to himself, _I hope you don't regret this, Fitzwilliam Gerald Darcy, or I will have your tongue!_

It was then that Mr. Darcy saw a flash of the Mrs. Bennet he was familiar with. A toss of the head and flashing suspicious eyes accompanied a rather screechy, "Why?"

Surprised, Darcy stammered, "_Why?_ Because I want to help you!"

"Why?" This time, the screech was very real, and Mrs. Bennet's arms were crossed in defiance in front of her.

"I do not see why not!" It was Darcy's turn to be flustered. _Idiot_, he said to himself, _now you have gotten yourself good and involved, and for what? To come face to face with the banshee herself!_

Mrs. Bennet gave an unladylike snort. "Why not, the man says!" Mrs. Bennet mocked. "Oh, how you vex me! Mr. Darcy, you do not even like us! From the moment you came to be our neighbor, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, came across fully! You think we are all beneath you, and you look down your Master of Pemberley nose and mock us all!"

Darcy was so taken aback by this tirade that he had no time to formulate a response. Further, Mrs. Bennet was not finished.

"We are simple folk here, Mr. Darcy, all four and twenty families! We certainly have not your stature, but we do what we can. Can you begrudge us the excitement of having within our most beloved company such personage from town as yourself and Mr. Bingley? We do not necessarily have designs on your person, Mr. Darcy, but we do want to have friends!"

"Mrs. Bennet …"

"Instead you were rude even on first meeting, and you dared call my daughter tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt you. All for a dance, Mr. Darcy! For shame!"

Dead silence. Was that thunder they heard in the distance, like an ominous gong warning that Darcy was about to get a very unpalatable dessert?

The matron raised her hand. "I am done." Suddenly, it seemed as though all energy had left her, and she sank back to sit on the rock. "Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, I spoke out of turn. Gracious! What will Hill think?" She gave a bitter laugh. "I had better have my salts ready, you see." She turned a cautious eye on Mr. Darcy. "I appreciate your offer of help, sir, but as you see, it shall be all right for myself. I just need a few moments. The road is over there, sir, just in case you are lost."

Darcy did not even look where she was pointing, his eyes glued on the woman before him. That last word she said was caught on a sob once more, and quite unexpectedly, Darcy felt like a boy being scolded by a mother disappointed enough to be brought to tears. In fact, Darcy remembered an instance very similar to this when he was a young boy called to face his mother, Lady Anne. So there was naught to do but say quietly, "I am sorry."

"Pardon me?" said the startled madam.

"I am exceedingly sorry, Mrs. Bennet, that you have such a poor opinion of me. But thank you for explaining so fully. I had not realized …" He looked away then, not quite knowing what to say. Was he really talking about this to Mrs. Bennet, of all people?

Mrs. Bennet sighed. "Mr. Darcy … I have had a very trying morning, I'm afraid, and it's not even a quarter of daytime. I simply beg you to excuse me."

Mrs. Bennet had a faraway look that all of a sudden caught Mr. Darcy on a wave of compassion. He cleared his throat. "The offer still stands, madam. If I can be of service, please let me."

Too tired to even think straight, much less to argue, Mrs. Bennet sighed and replied half to herself, "Mr. Collins asked to marry Elizabeth …"

And Darcy's heart got caught in his throat. _Elizabeth_? No!

**AN: Oh, I forgot the disclaimer. But you already know the drill ... they're not mine. They're Jane's. But occasionally they come to have a party in my brain.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: A friend asked me about the names of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet in this story. I do know that Jane Austen left out their first names, but fanfiction world has made "Thomas" and "Fannie" (or variations thereof) popular choices. I simply chose another set.**

* * *

Darcy's head began to pound. _Elizabeth ... marry Collins? _Carefully, he turned his face away to refuse the bile that rose his throat. But Mrs. Bennet seemed wrapped in her thoughts and barely paid heed, giving him some time to gather his wits.

Once sufficiently composed, he turned back to find her still staring at some point beyond. Darcy took the chance to study her: a handsome woman, he decided, with corn blonde hair tinged with just the vaguest grey around the temples, and still flawless complexion. She must have married young, he thought. She most resembles Jane Bennet ... although - here Darcy narrowed his eyes in contemplation - _something about her eyes are familiar_ …. Discreetly, he positioned himself to where he could better view the lady's face. He almost crowed._ "Ah!"_ he said to himself, _"there they are, dark emerald pools that would not leave me alone in my head! Elizabeth has her eyes!"_ The realization struck him, and an involuntary chuckle hitched his breath.

This pulled Mrs. Bennet out of her reverie as she took offense at her companion. She again swung to face the gentleman. "Oh, laugh all you want, Mr. Darcy! It would have been a good match for Elizabeth. She would have been a good mistress of Longbourn!" Mrs. Bennet then stood up with force and trudged over to a copse of trees, beyond which lay the fields of Longbourn. "You are not aware of the entail, are you?" she glared, even as her voice broke with a nervous pitch. "Well, Mr. Darcy, the Bennets stand to lose all this," she swept her arm toward the fields, "all to that horrid family Collins! Why? Why must we lose all Bennet blood from the running of this estate, when we have generation upon generation of Bennets working these fields? Why? Explain that to me!" She turned her back to Mr. Darcy and looked far out into that wide expanse of land and unconsciously sniffed. "I truly wanted Elizabeth to have Longbourn. She would have made it work. Elizabeth could not have been so intelligent for nothing."

This was a Mrs. Bennet that Darcy never even would have dreamed existed. A pride of the land laced her every word, and though she spoke in that shrill voice that would ordinarily make him cringe, he did not find it so appalling this time. Darcy knew why. Pride of the land was something that he, scion of the house of Darcy, generations of landowners, understood completely. It was what he grew up with. It was even what he lived for. Pride of the land. Pride of blood.

With a renewed sense of affinity, Darcy stepped up to stand beside the matriarch. In low tones, he said, "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bennet. I was not laughing at your predicament, truly." The woman gave another unladylike snort which riled Darcy somewhat, but he did his best to quell it. "I do know about the entail, madam, and I am genuinely sorry for the position it has put you in." He then cleared his throat. "I take it then that M-Miss Elizabeth had refused to marry M-Mr. Collins?"

Mrs. Bennet churlishly blew off a coil of hair from her forehead in response. Darcy turned to hide his glee and relief at this news, though he sternly reminded himself that this was of no consequence to him. He again looked out into the expanse as did Mrs. Bennet, the silence oddly companionable.

Such was broken by Mrs. Bennet's absent-minded mutter, however. "I suppose we are off to the hedgerows now." Darcy wondered what that meant but was prevented from asking by the matron's nervous giggle. "We always talk about being thrown into the hedgerows, you see, when Mr. Collins comes to take Longbourn for himself as soon as Mr. Bennet passes. I have to admit, this is one reason why I wanted Lizzy to marry Mr. Collins. But," here she let out a breath as she tore a leaf in her hands, "I suppose it does not matter now. Lizzy will not marry Mr. Collins. But Jane, I believe, has a fair chance with Mr. Bingley."

Darcy stiffened and immediately backed away from the matron. The mercenary streak was back! "Mrs. Bennet!" he said. "I would caution you not to make plans that would work against the happiness of my closest friend. I will not allow it!"

Mrs. Bennet's glint locked with Mr. Darcy's glare. "Whatever can you mean?"

"Simply this: Mr. Bingley will not be pushed into a marriage just because of your machinations! Do you not think I know what you plan, pushing my friend and your daughter together because you think you might benefit from such an alliance? Madam, this is not to be borne! Bingley's affable nature demands that he have a warm loving marriage! Your daughter I have observed closely, and I am certain she bears no affection for my friend at all!"

"Sir!" countered a livid Mrs. Bennet. "My daughter loves Mr. Bingley!"

"She does not appear to be in love!"

"And _you_, Mr. Darcy, naturally have never hidden feelings all your life!"

Angry silence fell. To Darcy, it felt like light came on in his head. Could it be ..? Miss Bennet tried to put up walls to protect herself? Darcy had been doing it all his life in society. For a while, he forgot about Mrs. Bennet, who had stepped closer to him to return his furious look with one of her own. But she spoke more quietly this time, although with her characteristic nervous tone. "I assure you, Mr. Darcy, that my Jane feels for your friend more deeply than she has ever done with anyone . She is shy; being beautiful has brought its fair share of unwanted attention toward her. But _this time, _Mr. Darcy, she glories in the very marked attentions paid her by Mr. Bingley, and it is because _she ... loves... HIM!_"

She huffed . "That Mr. Bingley is wealthy is an added attraction, I will admit. But are we then any different from other families you know in London? I think not. Still, I assure you, sir, the feelings are there, and they are very real, and they are all the matter to Jane! Are you truly going to expose your friend to the censure of the world for caprice, and my daughter to gossips about her disappointed hopes? I hoped you to be better than that, Mr. Darcy!"

"You sought to compromise them when your daughter became sick at Netherfield!" he accused.

"I did no such thing! I allowed them the chance to get to know each other, is all - something that would not have happened easily in the chaos of a house with five girls! Did I hope for the rain? I do not deny _that _either_!_ But I _honestly _thought it would pour _when _she arrived at the house, or after. And nobody dies of a trifling cold. But as to comportment, Mr. Darcy, I trust _my _Jane, who is all that is good and proper – and Mr. Bingley, for that matter, who seems all that is kind and generous! But oh! You just have to have the propensity to mistrust people, do you not, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy did not answer. Angrily, the matron turned away and arranged her wrap about her shoulders. "I had best get back to Loungbourn, sir," she declared. "I do not intend to spend my morning in useless debates. Good day." And with an abrupt curtsey, she turned to walk away.

"Mrs. Bennet. Wait." Darcy's voice had softened somewhat, and he walked up to where she stopped to look down into her still smoldering eyes. How so like Miss Elizabeth's, he mused, so full of fire. I never saw it before. He sighed. "Miss Bennet truly loves Bingley?" She nodded. Darcy thought for a moment, then said softly, "Well, then, I believe I will have to re-think my position. Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Bennet ... and I apologize for thinking the worst." It occurred to Mr. Darcy that he came close to giving misguided counsel to his friend, and shuddered at the thought.

Mrs. Bennet acknowledged his avowal with another nod, and set to walk again. "Mrs. Bennet?" Darcy again called. "M-May I walk you back to Longbourn?"

As surprised as she was, Mrs. Bennet gave a guarded dip of her head. "If you like, Mr. Darcy." Darcy smiled, loosed Kublai's reins that the mount might follow him as trained, then held out his arm to Mrs. Bennet. After a brief hesitation, she looped her arm through his, as she wondered at who this man really was.

* * *

Mr. Darcy's mind was churning rapidly, too. What on earth happened to his dead-set sentiments about the unacceptability of the Bennets? Not that he fully approved of them now … not yet! … but so many of his notions had been turned upside down. The primary one was Mrs. Bennet. That flighty, tiresome irritating sort of woman turned out to be more thoughtful than he realized – shrill, painful voice notwithstanding – and it unsettled him, especially as she brought up his own shortcomings in all honesty of feeling. That was something Fitzwilliam Darcy could hardly ignore. Most women of the Ton had not an original thought or opinion, so to have someone contradict him openly and so fearlessly as Mrs. Bennet had done was admittedly a fresh experience. One that he in equal parts relished … and not.

They had been walking in silence for quite a time when Mrs. Bennet suddenly said, "Mr. Darcy, may I ask you something? For the sake of giving relief to my feelings, I know I may be wounding your own. I just need to know …" Here she stopped mid-road, and whirled around to fully look him in the eye.

"Mr. Darcy, do you truly find my Lizzy tolerable but not handsome enough, sir?"

* * *

**AN: Well, let's see how Mr. Darcy wiggles out of that one. **


	4. Chapter 4

PREVIOUSLY:

**They had been walking in silence for quite a time when Mrs. Bennet suddenly said, "Mr. Darcy, may I ask you something? For the sake of giving relief to my feelings, I know I may be wounding your own. I just need to know …" Here she stopped mid-road, and whirled around to fully look him in the eye.**

**"Mr. Darcy, do you truly find my Lizzy tolerable but not handsome enough, sir?"**

* * *

Darcy winced. This was the Mrs. Bennet he knew – indecorous! He almost laughed. For some reason, he was not offended … but neither could he find a way to extract himself from having to answer. Beside him, Kublai neighed as though in amusement – _traitorous beast,_ Darcy glared, and tugged at the reins in warning. "Careful there, Kublai." He swallowed and cleared his throat (twice!), fidgeted and looked everywhere but the lady, scratched the back of his neck, and felt like a little boy all over again. His face burned. Mrs. Bennet still had her eyes fixed on him … twinkling eyes. Good Lord, was she _laughing _at him? _Blast!_ Darcy thought. _And does she have to look at me with those eyes that remind me of Eli ….? Agh! Well, there is nothing to do about it than to lay it out there, I suppose._ He let out a puff of breath, and carefully spoke.

"No, Mrs. Bennet, that is not where my thoughts tend at all. It has been sometime since I have thought of Miss Elizabeth as one of the handsomest ladies of my acquaintance." _There! That was not so difficult, was it_? Darcy felt no little mortification, and he tried to cover this up by putting Mrs. Bennet's hand on his arm once more to lead her back to walking. His face flamed even more when he thought she let out a little chuckle of triumph, but thankfully she said nothing.

After a few steps, Mr. Darcy too paused mid-road and turned to his companion. "Let me take this opportunity, madam, to apologize for my atrocious behavior that evening. I have not the talent for conversation with those outside my own party in social situations, but I know this is no excuse. Let me just say I was not feeling the best that evening because of a recent unhappy experience, and all I truly wanted to do was get Mr. Bingley to let me be. I barely spared a glance when Bingley pointed to someone."

He peered closely at her. "I still would have reacted the same way had it been La Gioconda who sat there with her mysterious smile." He saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, and Darcy suspected then that this woman was not as unknowledgeable as initially surmised. He turned away to hide a grin and began to walk again.

"Well." it was Mrs. Bennet's turn to clear her throat. "Well, this is … good to hear. I accept your apology, sir." There followed a discomfited pause, after which Mrs. Bennet said a little hesitantly, "One … can learn a lot … listening in to … Lizzy and Mr. Bennet's discussions." She smiled a little shyly at him. "I know what or who the Mona Lisa is."

Darcy grinned with delight that surprised even himself, but Mrs. Bennet did not notice this as she had her eyes cast downward. Curious, Darcy stole a glance at her, and suddenly felt that the matron was embarrassed. This gave Darcy pause. With a pang, he realized that something had probably gone amiss in the lady's upbringing and even her marriage, but it was neither shortage of intelligence, nor thirst for knowledge. It was the lack of opportunity. Perhaps it was the same for her daughters, at least the three younger ones? He decided to ponder on this later.

"Mrs. Bennet, do you mind sharing something with me as well?"

"If I can … but remember that a lady has to have her secrets!" she laughed in an attempt to lighten her voice. "What is it?"

"Forgive me, madam, b-but I wondered earlier … why you should … push for M-Miss Elizabeth to marry Mr. Collins when they are so clearly incompatible, and there is no affection between them. At least on the part of Miss Elizabeth. I would not presume on Mr. Collins' feelings. But … you want your eldest daughter to marry for love. Does not Miss Elizabeth deserve the same?" Darcy, while dismayed that he could barely speak straight, was astounded at his own forthrightness – but he truly ached to know and understand.

Only the sound of crunching gravel could be heard for several moments. Darcy began to worry that he had offended the lady and was ready to offer his apologies and retract his question, but as he was about to do so, Mrs. Bennet spoke, "I am not sure I can explain."

Silence fell once more. Finally, the matron straightened her shoulders and said with a flighty laugh, "Oh, the fluttering of my nerves!" She breathed in deeply and began in solemn tone, "Mr. Darcy, I love Elizabeth. The moment I first held her, I felt something - it was almost as if it was whispered into my heart, that one day she would save the Bennets. I was not sure how, but I was certain of that feeling."

She sighed. "Longbourn is dying, sir. Slowly but surely, for some generations now, it seems. And I feel that Mr. Bennet and I," her voice constricted, "I feel we have not done credit to the legacy as we ought to have. I, because I did not have sons, and Mr. Bennet because … well, that is neither here nor there, is it?" She finished that sentence with a short laugh. "And now it is too late for us."

She then looked up at Mr. Darcy as though imploring him to understand. "But Elizabeth … she is so intelligent, Mr. Darcy, so strong-willed. Among the girls, she is best suited to turn Longbourn around. The estate needs _her_. I agonize at the notion that Mr. Collins will someday take what remains of Longbourn and drive it to the ground if Lizzy were not there to attend." Her voice, starting out almost shrill, began to fade out.

Darcy mulled over her words and recognized their truth, though something still rankled. "But, Mrs. Bennet," he began, "would El-Miss Elizabeth be happy being m-married to such a … an .…" Darcy struggled for a more polite word to describe the Bennet cousin than what he had in mind.

Mrs. Bennet gave a nervous laugh. "Vexing oaf?" Darcy chuckled a little at that. Again, the matriarch became somber. "_That_ is the part I know I cannot explain adequately, Mr. Darcy," she replied. "Forgive me. But perhaps it may suffice that I admit I did not think it through?"

It was a concession of sorts, and Darcy felt that he should leave it at that.

* * *

Esther Bennet felt her world spinning. Was she really having this conversation with that proud, disagreeable man known as Mr. Darcy? This was not the same man! Oh, it was true that there their talk started roughly, but in the middle of it all, her understanding of him began to unfold.

That he was a gentleman of no mean understanding she already knew – but now added to that was a gleaning of compassion and protectiveness from him, even a willingness to accept correction. That perhaps was the most pleasant surprise of all. He still seemed proud and unapproachable, but Mrs. Bennet had begun to wonder at that façade. In fact, there seemed to be an odd shyness about him. How she surmised that last part, Mrs. Bennet was not sure. Perhaps a mother's instinct. She remembered his awkward admission about finding Lizzy handsome, and giggled.

She felt rather than saw the gentleman glance her way quickly. She did not meet his look this time, but walked along contentedly beside him, gently clasping his upper arm for support. _Contentedly _– it suddenly burst on her that she had not used that word for a long, long time to describe her situation. It felt good to have someone listen to her, to even look her straight in the eye like a person who mattered. This hour made her feel as though she mattered, and she was thankful.

The matron thought back to his question about Elizabeth. She knew the answer to it, of course, but had not the courage to confess it out loud as she knew it was pathetic and gambled with Elizabeth's heart. No. But at least, she could confess it within her soul, and perhaps in doing so, find redemption for herself in her thoughts.

For herewith was her gamble: _Could there not be a chance, indeed, that Elizabeth would find fulfillment __in running Longbourn .. in seeing it raised in value as a legacy for generations_? Could contentment be a more than adequate reward in the end? Lizzy would be the mistress of Longbourn that she, Esther, was never allowed to be.

Ah, and such was the crux of the matter. Esther Bennet was trying to live her dreams, or what should have been her dreams, through her daughter Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet sighed. Maybe it is high time she stop, for Lizzy's sake and her own. She thought on this some more, and as the pair turned round the last bend, she slowly nodded to herself in one final salute to her old dreams. She knew she truly could not bear to have Lizzy not happy.

* * *

They were nearing the fork in the road where one way led to the Longbourn manor, and the other to Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet pointed Mr. Darcy to a little side bench and quietly said, "I think you may leave me here, Mr. Darcy. I should like to take just a few moments to collect myself before I go back to the house."

"Very well," said the gentleman, and led Mrs. Bennet to sit down. He looked again into her face, arrested by her eyes that made him whisper in his mind, _Elizabeth._ Straightening up, he then gave a guarded but nonetheless warm smile, and asked, "Will you be alright here, madam?"

Esther Bennet smiled back. "Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy," she replied, thoughtfully surveying her surroundings. Then she looked back up. Enigmatic though he was, Mrs. Bennet felt a new, refreshing kinship with the imposing Master of Pemberley, whom she gazed at for a second before giving a light laugh. "The view from where I sit is most pleasing."

This time, Mr. Darcy grinned fully. He understood. "As it is from mine, Mrs. Bennet." He mounted his horse, threw a last smile, then sauntered off towards Netherfield. His plans for the day – perhaps for his life – had changed at that moment, and he was not afraid at all.


	5. Chapter 5

******AN: T****his chapter is dedicated to my friend Jannet Doe, who keeps on yelling at me on PM to update. :)**

* * *

**_Previously:_ Mrs. Bennet felt a new, refreshing kinship with the imposing Master of Pemberley, whom she gazed at for a second before giving a light laugh. "The view from where I sit is most pleasing."**

**This time, Mr. Darcy grinned fully. He understood. "As it is from mine, Mrs. Bennet." He mounted his horse, threw a last smile, then sauntered off towards Netherfield. His plans for the day – perhaps for his life – had changed at that moment, and he was not afraid at all.**

* * *

"There! There's Mama! Quickly, Lyddie, go find out if she's alright!"

Elizabeth Bennet was still euphoric at having escaped Mrs. Bennet's unwelcome matrimonial plan for her, but having learned from Hill that the mistress had walked out of the house alone and had been gone two hours, Lizzy began to worry. She had been standing by the parlor window looking out into the grove of trees to watch for her, unable to employ herself into some occupation like her sisters: Mary at the pianoforte, Jane sewing, and Kitty and Lydia trimming bonnets.

"Me? Why do I have to go? I was not the one frightened out of her mind. I told you she was going to be fine!" Lydia cried petulantly, hardly pausing in her craft. "Truly, Lizzy, you have nerves like Mama! Why do _you_ not go?"

"Because Mama is not very pleased with me today!" Lizzy replied hotly. At this, Lydia snorted in amusement, Kitty snickered, and Jane gently shushed. Lizzy huffed. "Fine! I will go." And with that she stepped out of the house, not bothering with the pelisse that Hill held out for her.

For all her inability to understand her mother's flutters, Elizabeth Bennet did hold Mrs. Bennet in great affection. Oh, she had never demurred the fact that she was her father's favorite, and he was her constant companion. Their intellectual interests always matched, and their sense of humor ran in similar lines, translating into a sarcastic wit that poked fun of the foibles of others. But with Mrs. Bennet, things were different. She and Lizzy argued loudly, relentlessly, and Lizzy had a temper she was not proud of. Deep down, however, there was nobody who made Elizabeth feel safe better than her mother. What a strange thing, as Mrs. Bennet's endless jitters actually had the effect of making most people jittery themselves. Elizabeth herself was hard-pressed to explain this phenomenon – not that she truly considered the matter heavily, at any rate. It was one of those things that was just_ … was. _Mrs. Bennet, unbeknownst to herself, was Elizabeth's sense of _home._

And so it was that Elizabeth rejoiced when she saw her mother return. After the events of that morning, she naturally expected her mother to be upset. _But where could she have gone, _Elizabeth wondered, _when she truly is not fond of walking!_ She espied her sitting on a small bench. _Mama, please be alright,_ she whispered as she hastened her steps – only to slow them down and creep stealthily as she neared, worry at her mother's reaction beginning to take over. She stopped a few feet away.

"Mama?" Lizzy called out in a small voice. Mrs. Bennet quickly turned. "Lizzy!" she responded. Elizabeth was relieved to see no scowl on her mother's face, and there was even a lilt to her voice – _but why is she rolling her eyes at me?_ She had her answer. "Elizabeth Grace Bennet! Oh, child, how can you be so tiresome! Running out of the house with your hair a mess that way, and with nothing to keep you warm! Lizzy! Have some care, please! My nerves cannot take too much worrying about you!"

Elizabeth stood momentarily frozen. Then suddenly, her face broke into a grin. "Yes, Mama," she said mock-contritely. Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes again, and wordlessly put her shawl around her daughter's shoulders. Elizabeth looked at her mother in wonder. _She had been crying, _Lizzy mused. Oh dear. _And she is trying not to let me see._

Patting the garment in place, Mrs. Bennet lifted her eyes to see identical ones gazing back at her. At once, Lizzy blurted, "I was worried."

"I know." Silence fell.

Elizabeth began again, "Mama …"

"Shhh." Mrs. Bennet took her daughter's hand with a sigh. "Lizzy, I …" She stopped and cast her eyes on the ground.

"I would be miserable with him, Mama," Lizzy begged for understanding.

The matron said, "I know." She squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "I _am _sorry, Lizzy. I suppose I wanted so much for you, and I never bothered to think if you wanted the same things, too." She looked far away into the trees, and for a while, she seemed lost in her thoughts. "I wanted … our family and Longbourn … to survive, and I forgot that … for such to happen, my daughter needed to survive first." She smiled sadly at Elizabeth, squeezed her hand again then began walking up the path.

_The entail_, Lizzy thought. _She is worried about that. _Quickly falling in step, Lizzy was about to say something, but Mrs. Bennet forestalled her with rapid thoughts: "Well, I suppose we just have to make do, don't we? There would be more assemblies to attend, and you shall catch the attention of one good man, won't you, Lizzy? Oh! We must work on your next gown, dear. I saw a new swirl of ribbons at the millinery, and it will be perfect with …" Suddenly, she paused and turned to face Elizabeth again with an unsure look on her face. "Lizzy … you do want to marry, though, don't you? You want a home of your own, surely."

Lizzy laughed, and took her mother's arm. "Oh, Mama! Perhaps someday, but I hardly think about it, you know! Besides," she teased, "would it not be just as well if I simply grow to be an old maid? Then I shall be on hand all the time to teach your grandchildren to play their instruments very ill! How merry we shall be!"

"Lizzy, how you take delight in vexing me," her mother chided affectionately as they walked, "I will not have it! Be serious now. I do want you to have your own home, child – and feel secure, content, and not afraid of anything in the future!" She rubbed her daughter's arm. "You are very intelligent, Elizabeth Bennet, and I would so hate for you not to be able to use that gift you are blessed with!"

Lizzy wondered at that pensive note in her mama's voice. Deciding to let it go for now, she then asked, "Wherever did you go, Mama? You had been gone a long time. I knew you were upset, and I did not want …"

Lizzy's rambling was halted by a dismissive wave of the hand from the matron, who replied, "Oh, just the back row of trees near the brook. It is funny you should ask, I just had the most interesting talk with …" Mrs. Bennet stopped abruptly, turned sharply to face her daughter with the look of someone who just got struck with a brilliant idea. "Oh, my! Oh my! Lizzy …! she exclaimed with bated breath.

If anyone should wonder, Esther Bennet just remembered a single gentleman of good fortune from Derbyshire (_he must be in want of a wife!_) who admired her second daughter – and who was so like her in intelligence. And if Mrs. Bennet's impression of the man's intrinsic kindness was right, _he _indeed would be the perfect match for one persnickety Elizabeth Grace Bennet.

* * *

"Darcy! There you are, man!" Charles Bingley greeted cheerfully as Darcy entered the Netherfield foyer. "That was quite a ride you must have had. Three hours, almost!"

Darcy smiled. "I apologize, Bingley. I hope you were not unduly worried."

"No, man, not me. Terence relayed your plan of an extended ride, so I knew not to expect you. It was Caroline who was ready to release the hounds on you," Charles laughed. Darcy subtly snorted – _Miss Bingley would always put her nose where it does not belong_, he thought. Their camaraderie was broken by the sound of quickly approaching footfalls and a breathless voice, saying, "Oh, Mr. Darcy! I had been frantically chasing away thoughts that you were hurt somewhere in this wild county! Thank heavens you are alright."

Darcy did his best not to roll his eyes at the fawning melodrama. "I appreciate your concern, Miss Bingley." He turned to Charles. "Bingley, if you can spare it, I should like a few minutes with you. Do you mind if I freshen up first, though? I will not take long."

"That is fine, Darcy, although I must tell you that I intend to start my journey to town about two hours hence. I need that early start to my business, so I can come back in three days' time." Darcy did not miss the warning scowl Charles sent Caroline's way, and had a decent guess as to what that meant. "In the meantime, would you like a light tray sent up to you in your chamber, or in my study for you to eat while we speak?"

"Your study, if you please. I truly will not be long down." Quickly, he proceeded up the stairs, taking two steps at a time and not caring how indecorous it seemed, just so Miss Bingley would not have the opportunity to detain him. He appreciated his friend's sternness toward his sister when he heard him tell her, "No, Caroline, you are not following Darcy upstairs. Go see to his light meal now, please."

Two hours later, a jubilant Caroline Bingley was handed up into the Bingley carriage. Strategically, she spread her skirts over the space next to her so Charles would leave that seat for Mr. Darcy. She was ecstatic – finally they would be leaving this dismal place to go back to the excitement and glory of Town! Already, her mind had begun planning her next London season with the Ton and Mr. Darcy. This is _her_ time, she knew … Mr. Darcy would finally be hers! Her heart laughed. Once in London, she would talk Charles into staying in Town and forgetting about Hertfordshire. Mr. Darcy would help bring Charles around. Was that not what they agreed to last night?

The two gentlemen finally came out of the house, chuckling over some subject. Caroline took this as evidence of their good mood at the prospect of again enjoying the bounty of London. _Oh_, Caroline thought, _if only my sister Louisa and that lazy husband of hers, Stephen Hurst, would hurry! I cannot wait to be on our way! _ She preened elegantly as the men approached and prepared to board the carriage, Charles going in first. With just one foot inside, he turned to Mr. Darcy and said, "Well, Darcy, this is it!"

Chuckling, Darcy replied, "Indeed it is, Bingley. Good for you!" And with that Bingley entered the equipage, sat opposite his sister, and _…_ Caroline gasped in surprise and sudden panic. _Why is Charles closing the door? Mr. Darcy has not boarded yet!_

Darcy thumped on the side of the carriage to signal its readiness. "I will see you in a few days, Bingley," he called. "Miss Bingley. Safe travels," he intoned levelly with a polite bow, then turned back to the house. Mentally, he began a countdown (3 … 2 … 1), and was not surprised to hear the most ear-piercing shriek from a lady of the Ton. Darcy grinned. _I score!_


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is for Guest "Anne", who caught something (hah!) with the cat and mouse stuff! Thanks! Changed it according to your recommendation. :)**

* * *

**Previously: Darcy thumped on the side of the carriage to signal its readiness. "I will see you in a few days, Bingley," he called. "Miss Bingley. Safe travels," he intoned levelly with a polite bow, then turned back to the house. Mentally, he began a countdown (3 … 2 … 1), and was not surprised to hear the most ear-piercing shriek from a lady of the Ton. Darcy grinned. _I score!_**

* * *

"Charles!" Caroline screeched. "What are you about? Mr. Darcy is coming with us to Town!"

"No, Caroline. Darcy will stay at Netherfield a bit longer. He likes the quiet of Hertfordshire." He rambled on to throw off Caroline's diatribe. "And before you ask, Stephen will keep him company, and Louisa will act as hostess. Shall we move on? I heard you tell Louisa that there is a ton of shopping you want to accomplish. You can get those things finished before I head back to Hertfordshire when I finish my business in a few days. Now close your mouth, Caroline, and clear that scowl. Such look is ungainly on you. Move on, Silas!" And with a thump on the roof, they were off.

"Charles, how could you? Stop the carriage at once! If Mr. Darcy is staying, then I shall be, too! Now stop this vehicle at once, I demand it," Caroline shrieked.

Charles sighed. "No, Caroline, you are not. Darcy came with us to Hertfordshire to rest and recuperate from something that happened to him last summer! I know little about it, but surely even you must have seen how needful total rest was for him! Besides," Charles punctuated, "it was initially to be just a trip for me and Darcy, as you are aware, but naturally, you just had to invite yourself and drag the Hursts along with you to intrude on his rest, Caroline."

"Hmph!" Caroline huffed. "If it was rest he required, he would have gone to Pemberley. It is paradise there, you know! No, Charles, Mr. Darcy came to Netherfield because he wanted to spend time with us! We are family to him," she gloated.

"Caroline … stop. You know you speak nonsense," Charles replied. "Pemberley would have provided no rest for Darcy. He was exhausted mentally and emotionally – could you not see that? He needed to be away from his own personal concerns for a while, but instead you were there every day, badgering him and reminding him of what he needed to escape from! Give the poor man a break, sister! He does not want you!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Caroline screeched.

"Exactly what I said. You will never be Mistress of Pemberley, Caroline! And note this: Darcy was very specific in his intention this morning. He was to travel with me to London if you insisted on staying at Netherfield, or stay at Netherfield if you could be persuaded to travel to London! Either way, sister," Bingley's voice was now as hard as could be, "you would not be spending time with Darcy. He does not desire it."

"It's that blasted Bennet girl, isn't it?" her voice rose to a fevered pitch, and even Charles' hissed warning of "Watch your language, Caroline!" was not enough to deter her from her furious ranting. "Whatever would Mr. Darcy see in that chit? She has no money, no connections, no talent whatsoever except being a great walker. no form or beauty at all …"

"Darcy is a gentleman, and Miss Elizabeth is a gentleman's daughter!" Charles roared. "So far they are equal! Listen to me, Caroline. Darcy will never look at you. You are a tradesman's daughter, and thus rank far below Miss Elizabeth. But even though Darcy cares for none of that, there is just nothing about you that he esteems, save for that you are a sister of mine! What will it take for you to understand this? Stop this madness ... please! Save yourself!"

Caroline leaned across the carriage and put her face, dark with fury, right in front of her brother's, and whispered with clenched teeth, "I will not give up Mr. Darcy, Charles. He is _mine_. He is always meant to be mine. You will see. I now know how to act, and you may depend upon my success." Straightening up abruptly, she then said coldly, "I shall be going back to Netherfield with you in three days, Charles - and then you shall see," and for the rest of the trip resolutely stared out the window.

_Not if I have anything to do about it,_ thought Charles. _I have many business points with my solicitor, Caroline, and you are one of them. I will not have you run my life anymore._

* * *

Darcy was glad that Charles was able to talk the Hursts into staying at Netherfield. Not that it took much effort, truly. The moment that Stephen Hurst learned that Caroline would be away with Charles to London, he seized upon Bingley's invitation to stay at Netherfield in his absence. "It would be a dull party, to be sure," Hurst had said sardonically, but with a teasing glance at Darcy, "not to be entertained by a certain cat-and-mouse game, but I suspect we will manage quite nicely."

Bingley had chuckled. "So, Darcy … is this arrangement to your liking?"

Darcy looked at Bingley's eager face, then at Hurst's teasing one, and felt mischievous enough to give a one-word answer, "Pi-eep!" Such silliness was worth seeing the shocked expression on Bingley's face before all three men laughed.

Sobering, Bingley went to his older sister Louisa, who all the while had sat on a settee, feeling a trifle uncertain. Sensing her disquiet, Bingley went to kneel in front of her and took her hand. "Louisa," he gently said, "I am taking charge of my future here and now. I had a good long talk with Darcy earlier, and some of the things that he shared truly impressed upon me that I need to leave boyish ways behind, and be the man that our Papa always wanted. Or better yet, the man that_ I_ have always wanted to be and _know_ I can be. Do this first step with me, sister. I need you."

Louisa cocked her head at her little brother. _He had always been such a tender-hearted boy_, she thought. _I only wish for him to be happy._ She put her palm out to touch Charles' face. "What are your plans, brother?"

Bingley smiled softly. "To find out if the woman I shall love forever is in Hertfordshire." He paused. "I only plan to court her for now, Louisa. Darcy counseled that I cannot rush headlong into marriage. It would hardly be wise. But I do know this, Louisa: I am in a fair way to knowing for sure that I love her – and marriage to her, while bringing me the highest joy, is also a step up for our family. She _is _a daughter of a gentleman, Louisa, and we cannot forget that our money was made in trade."

Silence filled the room for a long moment as the gentlemen let Louisa ponder this point. After a while, with a quiet little smile, Louisa kissed her kneeling brother's forehead. "Then God be with you, Charles Joseph Bingley."

"I have your blessing?" cried the young man, happily getting to his feet.

Louisa looked at him mock-askance. "Do you need my blessing?"

"No," Charles grinned cockily. "But I am glad to have it all the same."

Louisa laughed, for the first time in many years feeling a light-heartedness creep into her spirit. "Then go to it, brother! We shall hold the fort here, and get to know your lady's family." Her ebullience faltered a little at that, but when she looked up at her husband's proud face, and – most surprisingly – Mr. Darcy's approving glance, she felt her heart rise once more. And what was that that Mr. Darcy muttered cheerily? _"Oh, you will be in for a very pleasant surprise, Mrs. Hurst."_

* * *

And so it was that the next few days saw a flurry of social exchanges between Netherfield and Longbourn. Louisa made sure to subtly communicate to the Bennets, particularly to the eldest daughter, that Bingley was doing his best to conclude his business in Town as expediently as possible so he could return to Hertfordshire to attend personal business of his own. The soft rose that settled on the young lady's cheeks went far in appeasing Louisa's residual sense of unease, and as she spent more time with her neighbors, those feelings disappeared altogether.

It was on one of these visits that Louisa, standing by the tea serviette in Netherfield one afternoon tea with Mrs. Bennet and her three older daughters, noticed that Mr. Darcy was not at his usual aloof perch by the fireplace. _Come to think of it_, Louisa mused with a start, _Mr. Darcy has been extraordinarily sociable these days! _She had even noticed a marked though understated excitement in the gentleman's desire to see the Bennets, going so far as to sometimes form a _cheerful_ little group with Miss Elizabeth (_no surprise there, _she chuckled) _and _Mrs. Bennet! _How can I make this out?_

It was subtle, she knew, but something had changed with Mrs. Bennet as well. She was still flighty, for sure, and her voice lacked modulation, but gone was the overbearingly forward matron that Louisa felt difficult to stomach. In fact, Mrs. Bennet made a surprising overture to Louisa earlier this afternoon, and in such a shy way that was quite endearing it threw Louisa for a loop. "Mrs. Hurst," the matron began. "Thank you for inviting us to tea today. I have something for you that I thought you might be able to use." Reaching into her reticule, she pulled out a piece of parchment folded once over. She handed it to Louisa and said, "This is the recipe for the partridge dish that you so enjoyed at supper yesterday at Longbourn. It has been in our family for generations now, and is really" – she said this with a giggle – "quite famous in Meryton, you know. I copied it down for you, so you can have it prepared for Mr. Bingley when he comes."

Louisa looked at the paper in hand. "Oh!" she said, genuine pleasure lighting her face. "I thank you, Mrs. Bennet! That is most gracious of you. And you are right, that was indeed the most delicious partridge I have ever tasted. Let me put this away now before I misplace it." As she strode over to a small writing desk in the room, she happened to glance at Mr. Darcy, and was supremely bemused to see him very lightly pat Mrs. Bennet's shoulder and give her a small smile they thought nobody saw.

_Wonder of wonders, _Louisa mused.

The parlor door opened, and an unexpected voice sounded. "Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen. Forgive me for appearing unannounced. I was quite eager to see you."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Here's a wave _hello _to ByrintheBookWookie, who kept me laughing this weekend ... and to all of you lovely readers!**

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**Previously: The parlor door opened, and an unexpected voice sounded. "Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen. Forgive me for appearing unannounced. I was quite eager to see you."**

* * *

"Papa!" Elizabeth exclaimed in surprise. Stephen Hurst immediately stood up, bowed to the gentleman, and stretched out his hand. "Welcome, Mr. Bennet. It is good to see you here."

"Thank you, Mr. Hurst. Good afternoon, Mrs. Hurst and Mr. Darcy. I hope I am not intruding," he said politely, "I had a hankering for company today. The house was quite lonely without my family." At this, Elizabeth actually arched her brows – when had her father ever complained of loneliness when Mrs. Bennet was not around? She pointedly looked at her father to catch him on a fib, but Mr. Bennet simply chuckled at her expression and shook his head.

Mrs. Hurst, in turn, smiled graciously. "Not at all, Mr. Bennet. The invitation was for your whole family, after all, and we were told you had a prior appointment you hoped to cut short. Please, sit … let me fetch a cup of tea for you, if you desire." The gentleman gratefully accepted the offer. As they all settled back into social conventions, Mr. Bennet sat back and observed.

He was, as a matter of fact, speaking the truth. He _was _feeling bereft of his family's company, and he knew the exact trigger of these feelings: his wife. Specifically, the subtle puzzling shift in Esther's behavior of late, starting that morning of Collins' rejected proposal, four days ago today. There had been no histrionics from his wife since then, which he considered a good thing; but there was also a palpable surrender in her mien that admittedly frightened him.

The climax occurred yesterday when Lady Lucas and her daughter Charlotte called on Longbourn to share extraordinary news: Charlotte was getting married to Mr. Collins! Heavy silence met the announcement at first, then true to form, Mr. Bennet thought to launch some witty comment or other but was halted by the pale, stricken look on Mrs. Bennet's face. Such in itself was not surprising, but if Mr. Bennet expected her to loudly call for her salts to calm spasms and fluttering nerves again, he was disappointed. Mrs. Bennet instead cleared her throat, stood up and carefully walked over to Charlotte who appeared rather pale and nervous herself. With a tremulous smile, the mistress of Longbourn kissed Charlotte on both cheeks and whispered, "Congratulations, dear. We are happy for you." Unmistakably, there was a little catch in her voice, but the matron planted another kiss on the girl's forehead, even as an unbidden tear slid down her cheek. "Please," she brokenly pleaded in a hushed voice that she thought nobody but Charlotte could hear, "please take care of Longbourn." And with as much admirable grace as she could muster, she begged to be excused to look over the dinner menu for company that evening. When Mr. Bennet tried his default manner of teasing her shortly after the Lucases left, he was met by fiery eyes but quiet voice: "Mr. Bennet, please! You may not have had hopes for Longbourn and your daughters, but have a care. I _did_!"

Avery Bennet felt every sting of that day, for up to that moment, he knew he was all of a miserable failure. In rapid pace, scenes from their married life passed in his mind. _My wife loves Longbourn, perhaps even more than I do … dear Lord, I have been so blind. What have I done to her?_

* * *

Repairing to the pastry table for a second helping of sweet cakes, Darcy looked over the small company gathered in the Netherfield drawing room. In particular, however, his sight was caught by the pinched countenance of the master of Longbourn. He was in conversation then with Hurst, but was not attending as deeply as Darcy knew the gentleman was wont. Besides, in place of the usual wry, sardonic smile was a pensive one, even melancholy at times, especially when fixed on one subject: Mrs. Bennet. The matriarch had moved over to sit with Jane and Mrs. Hurst on one side of the room, and now they were affably discussing ribbons and other such frippery of London fashion. Darcy smiled. _She is still Mrs. Bennet_, he said to himself, _just without the overwhelming exuberance of before. I wonder if this has something to do with Mr. Bennet's own subdued mood today. _

"Mr. Darcy?"

It was Elizabeth. Feeling his heart skip, Darcy unobtrusively swallowed and turned to her. "Miss Elizabeth," he greeted. Funny, it seemed that Miss Elizabeth was as nervous as he. "How may I be of service, madam?" he inquired politely, and mischievously wondered how she would react if he added, "_dearest, loveliest Elizabeth_."

Well …" Lizzy stammered, then determinedly gathered herself. "Sir, I can no longer keep from thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my mother the other day. Ever since I have known it, I have anxiously wanted to acknowledge to you how grateful I was, and am. She was particularly troubled that morning, for a reason that I believe you are already privy to, but I was told that your presence was very helpful to her, and was in fact very instrumental in having her think straight."

Darcy's throat suddenly went dry. Did she … did Mrs. Bennet tell her … _oh please no_, he thought. In a tone lined with both caution and emotion, Darcy began, "I am sorry, truly sorry, that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I had not meant it to be so."

"Oh, no, you must not blame my mother," Elizabeth interjected. "She truly has not betrayed many particulars of your morning walk with her, save for the fact of her being open with you about a spectacularly failed proposal ..." here Elizabeth's face was scarlet, "and that you were most comforting to her. I thank you, sir, from the bottom of my heart. And ... ah ... she also informed me of a belated apology from you, and I wished to tell you that all is forgiven, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth quickly turned away, embarrassed beyond belief, and turned to go back to Mary's – or anybody's – side.

But Darcy gently called out to stop her, "Miss Elizabeth." Slowly, Lizzy turned to him, her cheeks still inflamed. Darcy sighed. "Miss Elizabeth, if you will thank me, let it be …" he paused. "let it be for an act of friendship that I wish to be able to claim we have forged between us. Especially as you say I have been pardoned ... by you." He stretched out his hand for a sign of agreement and kinship. "Please."

Lizzy stared at him, amazed at his gallantry. Her mother had been practically singing Mr. Darcy's gentlemanlike qualities to her since the morning of her walk, but Lizzy had been adamant that she had seen little of that yet. When Mrs. Bennet told her that the gentleman had profusely apologized for the insult spoken on assembly night, Lizzy simply replied with a laugh, "Oh, Mama, he probably did so because it was simply the easier thing to say!" Mrs. Bennet reprimanded her daughter for such cynicism; how unaware was this young lady that her mother at that moment debated whether to reveal to her that part about the gentleman's admiration! But she only cast a knowing look as she sternly warned her daughter that "one of these days, something about Mr. Darcy will catch your eye, Lizzy, and you will surely bite your tongue!"

But here now was the consummate gentleman, the friendly, and yes, even shy young man that Mama had talked about. Lizzy glanced at the hand held out to her, then back at the solemn blue eyes she found. _Mesmerizing Merlin! How his eyes are like windows to his soul, indeed! _She shook herself out of a near-hypnosis, then finally with a smile, took his outstretched hand. "Very well," she said. "Let us shake on it, Mr. Darcy … like the perfect gentlemen that we are."

Darcy laughed at her teasing as he clasped her hand and shook it – _although I really meant to kiss it, madam, _he thought wryly, sorry that he lost that opportunity. "Only in your case, Miss Elizabeth, it should truly be 'perfect lady'." Silence. Darcy gulped. _I cannot believe I said that out loud! Bumbling idiot!_

But Lizzy seemed unfazed. "Be careful, Mr. Darcy. If you think flattery will get you anywhere with me … well, then, you are probably right." _You promise? _Mr. Darcy wanted to ask, but this time held his tongue. Instead, he bowed, finding himself again thoroughly bewitched body and soul by this woman, more than any other he had hitherto known.

Elizabeth was not as collected as she let show. _Goodness gracious, he is flirting with me … and I am flirting back and enjoying it! _Elizabeth groaned internally. _Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly!_

From the other side of the room and out of the corner of her eye, Mrs. Bennet watched them, and she quickly hid the first truly happy and hopeful smile she had had for the last few days. Then she stood up, and decided to join Lizzy and Mr. Darcy in their tete-a-tete in order to observe them more closely together. Perhaps she could create a little magic of her own.

* * *

As promised, Louisa Hurst designed to acquaint herself better with the Bennets. Perhaps she could do that now with Miss Mary, whom she found sitting alone.

"Miss Mary," she greeted cordially. The young lady murmured a greeting – withdrawn but perfectly polite. Louisa studied her. She seemed to be of a naturally retiring disposition, with a countenance that lent itself plain in a bevy of pretty sisters. Louisa felt certain that Mary was often forgotten as being in the same room as the others. Perhaps that was why the young girl sought attention for herself at the pianoforte. Suddenly Louisa felt sorry – she knew what it was like to be compared often to a prettier, wittier sister, and even a very engaging brother. She smiled gently. "Miss Mary, I am glad you could come. I'm afraid you would have to make do with me for company, as your lively younger sisters were not able to join us. Pray, do your sisters often walk to Meryton?"

"Often, yes," Mary replied, "although it is really mostly to visit the shops and stay at our Aunt Phillips' house. That is where my younger sisters are today. They were to help our aunt with tea for the militia."

"Ah, yes, the militia," Mrs. Hurst said. "They are here for the season, are they not? Mr. Darcy," she turned to the man nearby, "do you not have an acquaintance in the militia here? I heard that a man in the regiment grew up in Pemberley … I believe a Lieutenant George Wickham."

It must be understood here that Louisa Hurst posed this question only as part of discourse, devoid of any penchant for malice. Not possessing knowledge of any shared history, Louisa was unaware that the mere mention of _that_ name was an attack on the gentleman's equanimity. How perplexed (and frightened!) she was then at the look of black fury that crossed Mr. Darcy's face! Mr. Darcy, in turn, was shattered to witness a look of mocking challenge on Miss Elizabeth's face, and a concerned countenance on that of Mrs. Esther Bennet, whom Fitzwilliam Darcy had truly come to esteem.

* * *

**AN: Next time: E/D showdown (of sorts).**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: This one is for LadyRuthless, who really wanted to know. :) Thank you! And to Byrin, for her (his?) nerdy spazzy bits. This is a long chapter, but so much needed to be said. Or at least shown.**

* * *

Previously: **"Ah, yes, the militia," Mrs. Hurst said. "They are here for the season, are they not? Mr. Darcy," she turned to the man nearby, "do you not have an acquaintance in the militia here? I heard that a gentleman in the regiment grew up in Pemberley … I believe a Lieutenant George Wickham."**

**Louisa was unaware that the mere mention of ****_that_**** name was an attack on the gentleman's equanimity. How perplexed (and frightened!) she was then at the look of black fury that crossed Mr. Darcy's face …**

* * *

Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been one to speak much about himself, but his friend Bingley was right about one thing: Darcy truly did have a horrid past summer. His cherished sister Georgiana had come very close to eloping … with a man nearly twice her age and who only thought of three pleasures to be had in such an act: the thrill of possessing Georgiana's dowry; the obscene excitement of experiencing carnal delight with an innocent; and the extreme satisfaction of exacting revenge against Fitzwilliam whom this man had considered the bane of his life. The name of that cretin: George Wickham.

Hearing his name spoken within the drawing room of Netherfield nearly drove away all cordial feelings that Darcy had towards this day that started very well. He stood pale and rigid, all the anger and pain of the past summer washing over him to the point of blocking out all others. He started shaking with fury, fists clenched, and his breath became rapid hisses. Then someone touched his shoulder. "Darcy, are you alright?" It was Stephen Hurst. He had moved quickly to Darcy's side when he witnessed the veritable storm on the man's suddenly closed-off face. "Is there anything I can get for your present relief?"

The words took a moment to register, but slowly the gentleman's furious haze began to lift. "Yes, Hurst, I thank you. A lick of brandy, if you do not mind," he mumbled, and Hurst quickly set about the task. Darcy's gaze remained intently fixed on Elizabeth's face – her look back was openly challenging, even mocking, he noted, and it was then that he realized that Wickham had assuredly damaged his reputation with the lady. A blaze of anger again ignited in Darcy's chest, but this time his mind was clear, and he decided to challenge back her gaze with his own. Long, long seconds went by. _I will have you know the evil of this man, Elizabeth, _he gritted to himself, and never once let his eyes nor the strength of his gaze waver on her face. _Do not dare trust him!_

It was as if Darcy's forceful thought was communicated to Elizabeth, for suddenly, her stare faltered. Her eyes grew incrementally larger and larger until, feeling the brute of the gentleman's conviction but hardly knowing the reason for it, Elizabeth looked away. Her breath hitched a little, and she knew her color rose, then quickly dropped to ashen. Darcy could tell she was confused. _Good, _he said in hollow, bitter triumph. _Good for you._

Louisa Hurst, recovering from her own shock of seeing a whole slew of negative emotions shadow her esteemed guest's face, tremulously broke the silence. "Mr. Darcy … please, be so kind as to forgive me! I did not know …!"

Mr. Darcy turned to her, and forced a smile. "Mrs. Hurst. There is nothing to forgive. You truly could not have known." At this he turned his back to the others and gulped down the brandy Hurst had handed to him. He considered excusing himself from the gathering so he could recover in the privacy of his chambers, but at that moment he rather doubted even having enough energy to walk to the door with grace.

A high-pitched whisper nearby caught his attention, "What did _he_ do?" but he refused to turn around. Then there was a touch on his arm, tugging at his sleeve to force him to do so. He did - and looked on the shocked eyes of Esther Bennet, searching _his … very … soul._

There was no sound among the throng. No one spoke, nobody even dared breathe. Then gently, tentatively, Mrs. Bennet raised a compassionate hand to Mr. Darcy's right cheek and asked, lowly and quietly this time, "Worse, what did he do to _you_, my son?"

Tears pricked Darcy's eyes. He could not help it.

"I raised my sister all, all alone …" he whispered in a lonely voice.

In all the five years that this tall, imposing man from Pemberley had been Master of a great estate, with the livelihood of hundreds under his command, Fitzwilliam Darcy had never appeared less than impeccably collected, confident and in control. This day, in the Netherfield drawing room, something broke free at the hand of a mother.

* * *

Supper at Longbourn that evening, a few hours after the Netherfield tea, was quite an odd affair. At the head of the table sat the Master with a very somber expression while he pondered on the events of the afternoon , flanked on each side by an equally pensive Jane and Mary. Elizabeth had asked to be excused from the family meal, citing a headache. Down at the other end, Lydia and Kitty prattled on and on to an uncharacteristically sedate Mrs. Bennet, who at every exuberant comment of the two youngest girls, had none similar to offer, only a whispered word or a quiet smile, or occasionally an attempt to shush the two.

"Oh, Mama! You should have come with us," enthused a giggling Lydia. "It was such a merry party, and the set so grand, you would think it was a ball already and not just a simple afternoon tea! Oh! And Denny let me play with his sword too, Mama, which I understand was quite an honor, because a good soldier is never to be without his sword. And Mr. Wickham is so charming and handsome … I never would have wished to be parted from him. Did you see him kiss my hand, Kitty? He paid me excessive attention, did he not?"

Kitty rolled her eyes. "How could he not, Lyddie, when all you did was bat your lashes at him all afternoon! Although I own, Mr. Wickham is very charming. That odious man Mr. Darcy really has treated him infamously."

"I do not care two hoots about Mr. Darcy," Lydia huffed. "That pompous man ought to be slapped for doing what he did to dear Wickham …"

"ENOUGH OF THAT, LYDIA, KITTY!" finally roared the Master of Longbourn. "Have you nothing else in your heads except ribbons and officers? You two, I wager, are the silliest girls in all of England!"

"But, Papa …!" wailed the girls, but was stalled by another harsh admonition from Mr. Bennet.

"I said, Enough! I will not have any talk of officers at my table ever again. Do you understand? And on the morrow, you two are not to go below stairs until summoned. Meal trays will be sent up to you. We have an important discussion with a guest tomorrow, and I will not have any distraction from your silliness. Is this clear?"he glared.

"A guest? But …" Lydia wanted to rail at the injustice, but the stern look from her father, hitherto an unknown experience for her, made her turn to her mother for support. None was forthcoming.

Mr. Bennet then turned to Mary, "Mary, dear, would you be so kind as to stay with your two youngest sisters above stairs to make sure they follow my instructions, as soon as our guest comes? We will update you on matters later. Jane, I would like you and Elizabeth to join the discussion, if you please."

"Yes, Papa," said Jane, and Mary nodded as well. Supper continued in silence.

Inside his head, Mr. Bennet was ruminating on the events of the afternoon. _It was not even that the man cried copious tears, _Mr. Bennet said to himself, for once unable to laugh at a perceived foible - this man was obviously hurting. _He still had that dignity about his person. Esther was so good with him, it was amazing to see._

He could see in his memory his wife's hand gently touch the cheek of the anguished gentleman. _She kindly called him Son. _"What did he do to you, my son?" she had asked, and suddenly the intimidating Master's eyes were those of a boy - red, rapidly blinking and glassy - and he whispered with tears in his voice, "I raised my sister all, all alone." His hand went up to clasp hers. He did not continue speaking – only stared in Mrs. Bennet's eyes, then abruptly straightened up and allowed the Master of Pemberley to re-appear. _He never let go of Esther's hand, _Mr. Bennet had noticed. "I beg your forbearance; this was an unseemly display. I have much to explain, but forgive my inability at the moment. I must compose myself."

Turning to his hosts, he had asked to confer with them after supper that evening, and they nodded yes. Mr. Darcy then faced Mr. Bennet and said, "Sir, would you grant me an audience tomorrow? I have things to impart which may be of import to you and your daughters." He looked at Lizzy then, and there his gaze stayed for a while.

Mr. Bennet replied, "Certainly, Mr. Darcy. I will listen to whatever you have to say, although I assure you, you owe me no explanation." Darcy resolutely shook his head, indicating his determination, so Mr. Bennet relented, "Very well. Shall we settle on ten o'clock in the morning?" Such then was agreed, and the gentleman, with a practiced bow, a grateful squeeze of Mrs. Bennet's hand, and an imploring look at Elizabeth, left the room. It was not long after that the Longbourn party made their farewells as well.

"Papa, may I be excused?" Jane's quiet voice brought Mr. Bennet back to now. "I would like to check on Lizzy." Permission was granted, and the other girls followed suit, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet alone. Silence, thick and painful, stretched between them, until with a sigh, Mrs. Bennet said, "It has been a long two days, Avery, has it not?" She gave a tired smile, and rose to go.

"Mrs. Bennet. Please stay." Hearing the gravity in his voice, Mrs. Bennet slowly sat back down and looked at the pattern on the china. Also sighing, Avery Bennet stood and went to his wife's side to pull her up to her feet. Putting one finger under chin, he lifted her face to look deep into her sad, bewitching eyes. "Esther … I have been a blind old fool. I have much to re-learn about you all over again, and plead redemption for myself. Is it too late for me?"

Esther Bennet hiccupped a sob. She grabbed on to her husband's coat for dear life as she cried out her sadness that had culminated in all the events of this afternoon. Soon, however, feelings of anger and pain, stored up for almost twenty-three years, began to creep, and Esther's breaths came in desperate gasps while Avery held her close. She began pounding on his chest with her two fists, angrily yelling out her frustration and even swearing on occasion. Even so, Avery did not flinch. He felt he deserved every blow, every angry word, but … _I will not let you go, my darling._

How long they stood there Avery Bennet had no idea. He knew that the servants had kept away, and he was thankful. Esther had finally begun to calm, and was sobbing softly now on her husband's chest. Then she heaved out a sigh. "I do not know how to do this, Avery," she stifled more sobs as Avery choked back tears as well. "But I want things to change so badly. Can we talk more … listen more … make those changes happen? Can you see _me_, husband?" He smiled as he pulled back a little to gaze at her puffed up, but incredibly lovely, face. Caressing her cheek with his thumb, he made a solemn vow: "We can, we will. And I see you now, my sweet wife. Please, please, I do not deserve it, but forgive me, Esther," he begged, and gathered her in his arms. He knew he had much to atone for – his indolence and total disregard for his wife's person need the first to be worked on – but Avery knew that he needed to make it happen.

Avery whispered, "I love you, Esther." She whispered the same to him. Then in a rush of passion - a fervent mixture of eagerness , tenderness, admiration for his wife and gratitude for a new start - Avery Bennet possessively clasped his lips onto Esther's trembling ones. He felt as though he was nine and twenty all over again. Only this time, he knew … it was infinitely better.

* * *

**Next stop: Elizabeth's epiphany, and Bingley returns!**


	9. Chapter 9

**This one's for my Dutch friend, just because. :) And a certain pegasister. After the wild emotional ride last chapter, let's take a little time to calm down and process.**

* * *

Previously**: Avery whispered, "I love you, Esther." She whispered the same to him. Then in a rush of passion - a fervent mixture of eagerness , tenderness, admiration for his wife and gratitude for a new start - Avery Bennet possessively clasped his lips onto Esther's trembling ones. He felt as though he was nine and twenty over again. Only this time, he knew … it was infinitely better.**

* * *

Elizabeth had been on the window seat for several hours. She did not let Jane come in last night, simply whispering through the door, "Give me tonight alone, Jane. I just need to think on things for now." Jane kindly left her then, and Elizabeth spent the bigger part of the night thinking hard before falling into a restless sleep for a scant two hours or so.

The image of Mr. Darcy in Netherfield would not leave her - that face so still that it could have been cut from marble. And yet his eyes were lit with unmistakable passion - pain, agony, anger, sorrow – that came in mighty currents Elizabeth herself was caught, and she did not fight back. She had no chance. Mr. Darcy held her captive by his gaze. It was then that she heard it. A small whisper first, turning into battlecry. _I will have you know the evil of this man, Elizabeth. _What … who …? Mr. Darcy never spoke a word, but Elizabeth knew it was _him_. The conviction in the voice fully matched the strength of his gaze. Elizabeth's heart buckled as all at once she realized: _Such strength of emotions cannot come from so cold a heart …!_

_I have been misled all this time, _Elizabeth knew. Of neither Mr. Darcy nor Mr. Wickham she could now think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, and absurd. All too clearly did she realize the inconsistencies and improprieties that lined all her interactions with Mr. Wickham, as well as the lack of substance of that man himself, despite all appearance of goodness. Why had she not seen them before?

"How despicably I have acted!'' Elizabeth groaned, "I who have always prided myself of my discernment! Foolish girl!" She hurled a pillow across the room, then picked it up again in agitation and made to scold the object. "T'is right for you to be embarrassed, Elizabeth Grace Bennet! You drove away all reason, simply because you were pleased with the favor of one man and offended by the neglect of the other! All starting with _one … insignificant … occasion_!" Each word was punctuated by a pounded fist, as it was the pillow's lot to be battered into complete disfigurement. Energy spent, Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned onto the window, while the world outside roused to life as light chased away the night.

"Till this moment, I never knew myself,'' she whispered.

She thought back to what she knew about Mr. Darcy. An intelligent man; he neither hid it nor flaunted it. A generous and liberal master, as she had secretly witnessed him many times slip a coin into a servant's hand. A thoughtful friend, as he had Mr. Bingley's total approbation. A loving brother, considering the many pleasurable letters she had seen exchanged between the siblings. A conscientious lord, as she had noted him always reserving a portion of each day to see to the affairs of his estate, even from so far away. A prayerful parishioner, as she had seen him on his knees in quiet contemplation many times during Sunday services.

A gentleman.

Not a perfect one, to be sure, for he _was _unapproachable and condescending at times, but a _good_ man. Even his arrogance was not borne out of malicious intent to malign, but in reality was a product of his upper station in society, and even that he would readily shed with anyone he was at ease with. Elizabeth sighed. She could not ignore the fact that even the behavior of her mother had subtly changed with one encounter with Mr. Darcy. She was at a loss on how it happened and could not escape the finger of suspicion on her mother's motivations, but she could not deny the proof. Mama said that she understood Mr. Darcy just a little bit more, and in his comportment she had found much to inspire. High praise, indeed! Elizabeth laughed. _Oh mama._

"Lizzy? Can I come in?" It was Jane. Lizzy bid her come, and Jane sat beside her sister, allowing a few moments of quiet before asking, "Are you alright, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth, after a pause, replied, "I hardly know, Jane. In one afternoon, many of my beliefs that I thought so strong as well as right and proper, have been badly shaken. It is humbling, to be sure."

"We hardly know any details yet," Jane cautioned.

"Even so," Lizzy insisted, "can such strength of feelings as what Mr. Darcy exhibited yesterday come from one who has not grieved, and deeply at that? Jane, I begin to think that Mr. Darcy is the injured one rather than Mr. Wickham, that we – no, that _I _– have been fed lies that I _chose _to lap up! I am so ashamed!"

"It was one mistake, Lizzy."

"But what a mistake! For the sake of my mortified pride, I was always rude to the man, refusing him any quarter, deriding his every thought and mocking his manners! Could I have been any more petty? And I thought I was being clever! I should not wonder that he now thinks meanly of me … his good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

Jane smiled. "I hardly think you have lost his good opinion, Lizzy, nor are you likely to."

Lizzy dismissed that with an inelegant snort, then thoughtfully sighed. "I am glad we are not to see him today when he speaks with Papa."

At this, Jane started, and said, "Oh! I forgot to mention. Papa _does _want our presence for the interview with Mr. Darcy today, Lizzy. I believe he feels it is important that we be there. No, no, hold on, Lizzy," Jane grabbed her sister's arms as Lizzy gasped and vehemently shook her head, "listen. You must know that Mr. Darcy admires you greatly, Elizabeth Bennet. He does! It is in his every gaze at you, in the very manner he addresses you. Please, Lizzy, just hear him. It will be well. More for you than for me, because as you know," and she giggled a little here, "I was always the clever one regarding the character of Mr. Darcy." Lizzy rolled her eyes at that, but said nothing. Jane laughed. "Come, let me help you get ready for the day."

Elizabeth sighed and acquiesced. Jane was not to know that to Elizabeth, the thought of seeing Mr. Darcy and hearing his voice again today did things to her that she could not, and did not want, to explain.

* * *

Fitzwilliam Darcy did not relish re-living for the second time in as many days, the horror he endured last summer. However, last night was cathartic. Despite feeling apprehensive about opening up to the Hursts, Darcy knew he at least owed Louisa an explanation for his furious look. In the end, he was glad he did. The Hursts were all that was kind and compassionate, with the extra sentiment of Stephen getting all livid at how a young innocent girl could be treated so vilely. "That blackguard!" he growled, and in a reversal of roles, it was even hard put for Darcy himself to calm Stephen down – until he learned that Stephen's extreme anger stemmed from a similar experience of his own sister. Stephen broke down at such remembrance, and Louisa, in turn, felt her own heart wrench in anguish. "Those poor, sweet girls," she wept, "and all that your dear families have had to endure! I am so, so sorry, Stephen, Mr. Darcy." And so it was that hearts bonded, and a vow of confidence sealed most securely among them.

Charles Bingley had arrived back at Netherfield last night, just before Darcy's recital, for which Darcy was glad as he would not have to repeat the process. That he had returned without Caroline was also a source of pleasure to him, and of relief to the Hursts. "She is the reason I took all of five days to finish with my solicitor," Charles had said tiredly last night, "two more than I intended. She was terribly difficult, Louisa – and would not let go of her obsession with Darcy. She issued many threats, some more troubling than others, and I knew that it was time to take a stronger hand. I wrote to you about my decision, Louisa. You did receive my express, did you not?" Louisa replied that indeed she had: Caroline now had been set up with an establishment of her own (a townhouse in a more than respectable part of Town) and handed full control of her dowry. While her siblings would welcome calls and visits from her, and would themselves like to visit her on occasion, Caroline was now her own independent mistress.

"She was extremely vitriolic and abusive," Charles reported, "but in the end, what was done was done for the best." Darcy concurred. Charles assigned some of his own staff into Caroline's residence until more permanent staffing could be found. In this Darcy and Hurst promised their aid, and Louisa determined to pay a call on her as soon as possible to ensure her well-being and retain their sibling ties.

* * *

Bingley sat with Darcy now in the breakfast parlor, the latter unaware of how closely he was being scrutinized by his friend. Bingley understood now more fully the melancholy that had enshrouded Darcy since summer. _We both have sister troubles, _he thought with a wry smile_, although of very different natures! _Charles actually thought that Darcy had the worse of these sister troubles. _At least mine has claws to use,_ he opined, _and would not hesitate to use them. _He gave a little chuckle, prompting Darcy to look up at him from the coffee cup he was staring into. Bingley cleared his throat.

"So, Darcy, you intend to call on Longbourn this morning, yes? How about I join you, old chap? I have missed our neighbors exceedingly."

Darcy snorted. "Of course you have missed the _neighbors, _Charles." Bingley flushed. "You are welcome to join me, Bingley, but remember that my purpose is a little more than a social call. I went very early this morning to merchants of Meryton and bought up Wickham's debts. As I expected, he has amassed quite a few – already close to eighty pounds total, in just over a month! I expect that more will turn up once he has been exposed." Darcy sighed. "I simply meant to buttress my testimony to Mr. Bennet. I did not expect to lay out all the sordid details of summer. But I suppose … I have to."

"It will be well, Darcy," reassured Bingley. "I have a good feeling that the Bennets will be fully on your side on this one." He grinned. "Besides, you have made a conquest of two of the fair ladies of Longbourn, I hear!"

Darcy glared, although he could see the merry twinkle of his friend's eyes. "Listen, Bingley, if you are suggesting anything improper …"

"You, improper? Pshaw! I am simply saying," and Bingley stood up, casually wiping his mouth with his dinner cloth, "that it was pure genius getting to the lady of your heart through her mother. _Genius, I say! _I should imitate your style. It is most effective!" And laughing, he quickly walked out of the breakfast room, avoiding a napkin forcefully thrown his way by an indecorous Master of Pemberley.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Previously: "You, improper? Pshaw! I am simply saying," and Bingley stood up, casually wiping his mouth with his dinner cloth, "that it was pure genius getting to the lady of your heart through her mother. I should imitate your style. It is most effective!" And laughing, he quickly walked out of the breakfast room, avoiding a napkin forcefully thrown his way by an indecorous Master of Pemberley.**

* * *

Darcy's heart beat wildly as he and Bingley were led into the Longbourn drawing room by Mrs. Hill. Immediately, his eyes sought the form of Elizabeth, who sat by the window, head bent. Darcy was dispirited. _She would not look at me. Drat Wickham and his poisoned fangs!_ Enviously, he watched Bingley approach Miss Bennet who had a radiant smile. _She smiles too much, _Darcy said to himself rather snidely_ - drat Bingley and his Irish charm!_ Immediately he felt ashamed of his envious mind, and simply sought to be pleased for his friend.

"Mr. Darcy, I thank you for coming," greeted Mrs. Bennet. "May we offer you and Mr. Bingley any refreshments before any business is conducted?" Darcy turned to the matron with a jolt of cheer, remembering her gentle kindness to him the day before. He felt incredibly lightened then – although admittedly, the Master of Pemberley part of him was a trifle embarrassed at his show of emotions yesterday. Darcy crossed the room over to her immediately, took her hand and briefly raised it to his lips.

"Madam," he said softly, "I wanted to thank you for your kind spirit yesterday at Netherfield. You were a huge comfort to me." Mrs. Bennet blushed prettily, and finding her throat constricted, did nothing more than dip her head in acknowledgment. Darcy then added, "As to your question about refreshments - pardon me, but I believe I would prefer to get done with the more 'unsavory' part of our visit. Is this acceptable?" He swung to address Mr. Bennet in this instance.

"Oh, certainly, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet replied affably. "Perhaps you would like to proceed to my study, then?" He paused. "Mr. Darcy, inasmuch as you stated that whatever information you have would be of benefit to my family, I thought it best to have _my wife_ with us as we talk. I am certain her insights would be invaluable, if a situation arises where we need to make a decision."

Darcy did not fail to note the look of pleasure that suffused Mrs. Bennet's face as she looked at her husband. "I think it is a splendid idea, sir," he declared with a smile, and having assumed that the daughters would remain with Bingley, bowed to them to exit the room. He was detained by Mr. Bennet's voice.

"And I would like Jane and Lizzy to hear your story as well, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy saw at once that Elizabeth paled, and a look of panic crossed her face. Darcy's heart clenched inside him, realizing that Elizabeth would rather not face the hurt of having her suitor degraded. Irritation flashed, but just as quickly, compassion overruled. _This must be hard for her, _he thought. He sought to say something, but Miss Bennet had demurred. "May I just stay here, Mama? It would be unseemly to leave Mr. Bingley alone."

Mrs. Bennet's face lit up with a familiar calculating look (which almost made Darcy groan and laugh at the same time), especially when she saw the eager look on Mr. Bingley's face. "That is thoughtful, Jane – it is, after all, Mr. Bingley's first visit after a few days' absence. Very well, we shall let you stay. Elizabeth," she turned to her younger daughter, "you will need to hear whatever Mr. Darcy has to share. Leny will stay in the room as chaperone," she declared, nodding to a female staff nearby. With that settled, she took her husband's arm to walk with him to the study, throwing a suspiciously arch look at Mr. Darcy as she passed by him. _Did she also wink at Elizabeth? _The gentleman silently snorted and shook his head with a smile. _This matchmaking mamma is the same as she ever was._

As Darcy made to follow his hosts, he took the opportunity to whisper to Elizabeth. "Miss Elizabeth … I apologize. I did not intend to put you in an awkward situation. I know that Wickham is a favorite of yours, and this must be difficult …"

"Mr. Darcy. Stop." Elizabeth laid a soft hand on Darcy's forearm. "I am alright. It is … not what you think ... at all. Believe me." And with a small nod, she went ahead to have him follow her to the appointed room.

Darcy walked behind her grinning like a fool.

* * *

"This, sir, is a faithful narrative of every event in which Mr. Wickham and I have been concerned together … please believe me, it is not an easy tale for me to relate, as the pain that my sister and I have suffered are still freshly felt daily. But I hope you have seen enough of my character to at least want to acquit me of cruelty towards the man." He sighed. "I wanted to tell all of you this yesterday, but truly, I was not master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. But I have decided to be open with you … I thought it could only serve us best this way."

All throughout his narration – in which he begged for their indulgence to let him speak uninterrupted - Darcy had kept his eyes mostly on the Master of Longbourn. Doing so helped him keep his equanimity, as well as his resolve. He told them of Wickham growing up in Pemberley - as the son of the steward, yes, but more importantly his friend and near-brother. He told them of his own father's seeming preference for Wickham, of this contributing to that young man's self-importance. He told them, in as delicate manner as possible, of Wickham's many dalliances with village girls; how this behavior continued through university days; of a handful of illegitimate children born from his actions. He related the drinking and gambling charges that he, Darcy, discharged in order to protect his father's feelings. He spoke of his father's death; of the item in the will for Wickham; of Wickham's refusal to take the living and choosing pecuniary compensation instead. He related that man's attempt to wrest back the living when all his money had ran out.

Finally, with pain in his voice, he told them of Georgiana, his most beloved sister … how he raised his sister all alone … how she was the only one he had left of the Darcys … how as a toddler, Georgiana actually thought that he was her "Papa" and often called him such … how he saw to her education in every way … and how he failed her badly in not warning about Wickham, nor in being more careful in choosing a companion for her in Ramsgate. In painful detail, he related how Wickham had used his own employee against him to get to the tender heart of fifteen of Georgiana – and how this had scarred Georgiana so badly that she had retreated very tightly into her shell and Darcy was at a total loss on how to help her.

Darcy, in saying all these, could hear interspersed soft gasps of horror and astonishment from the two women, even on occasion a sob of compassion for both Mr. Darcy and his sister. Such gratified him – it was generally beneath Darcy's principles to play on the tender feelings of others, but in this case, he could see absolute merit.

He was exhausted by his emotional narration, but he had one more business to settle. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the receipts obtained from Meryton merchants and a few individuals just that morning. "Mr. Bennet, I took the liberty of checking on Mr. Wickham's transactions in the village. These, sir, are his outstanding credits incurred in just over the course of this month. I have settled these debts as leverage. I am certain that more notes will come from various businesses in Meryton. I still also hold notes from other places in various counties, sir … in case I feel compelled to use them." His voice was rife with meaning.

Mr. Bennet did a quick tally of the notes. "Already seventy-eight pounds and then some! Most from taverns … three from gaming tables … and some from dandy shops! What sort of a fellow is this?" he exclaimed as he rifled through the sheets.

"I had been hoping, sir, that you would help me find a way to help protect the Meryton merchants from further damage to their businesses ..." Mr. Bennet nodded, realizing that indeed, his word may hold more weight in this case than Mr. Darcy's.

Darcy was even loathe to share with Mr. Bennet, at least while the ladies were present, about what he learned about the Mr. Keith, the confectioner's, daughter. She had fallen pregnant, and Wickham was pointed as the father. _And yet I must warn them, _Darcy thought. _The younger Bennet girls … _

Hesitantly, he began, "Mr. Bennet, this may be indelicate, but there are ladies in Meryton … Wickham … ahh …"

Mr. Bennet snorted at this. "Surely there is nothing in my girls' dowries that should attract a mercenary as Wickham, Mr. Darcy!" A flash of irritation shone in Darcy's eyes, even as he felt and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Miss Elizabeth cringe and blush at this bald and unflattering statement. _Was this man not listening to me?_

"Dowries are not the only things he is interested in, sir!" he countered with probably more force than he intended.

"But my girls are daughters of a gentleman!" This time it was Mrs. Bennet who exclaimed thus, her voice shrill with anxiety. She even lifted herself halfway up from her chair; such was her worry for her daughters. This time, Mr. Darcy forced his look to smoothen, and he faced the matron squarely and determinedly, hoping to make his full meaning known.

"I am afraid that has never stopped him before, madam." He sighed, but did not avert his eyes from hers. "Sisters of a couple of our university friends ... members of the Peer ... were taken away because of ... incidents ... with Mr. Wickham." Slowly, Mrs. Bennet eased herself back down, nodding her head. She then looked at her husband with unmistakable intensity, and he stared back at her.

Longbourn's master suck in his breath, probably for the first time acknowledging the jeopardy his family, especially his daughters, actually faced. "Say no more. I understand." He snuck a quick look at Lizzy, at the same time that Darcy also happened to glance at her. Lizzy, pale and reeling with all of Mr. Darcy's revelations, tried to mask her gasp – but it came out more as a sob. Unable to rein in her horror and self-reproach any longer, Lizzy stood up abruptly and ran out of the room in mortified tears.

Darcy did not know what to do. He wanted to run after Elizabeth, but knew that to be unacceptable; besides, he had no certainty of the kind of reception he would get. _You big buffoon, _he reprimanded himself_. You laid it on too thick and now she is hurting! I swear, Fitzwilliam Darcy, your darned sense of honor is half too mighty sometimes. Now do something!_

"Ow!" Someone had sharply rapped him on the hand – Mrs. Bennet! _Why on God's green earth is she glaring at me? _

"Mr. Darcy, what are you waiting for? Go after her!" she shrilly commanded._  
_

Instinctively at the voice of a scolding mother, Fitzwilliam countered with a near-whine that was _so_ _not him_, "Me? But I have no idea what to say to her! Ow!" Another rap.

He glared. She glared harder.

They stared. He frowned, but she still glared – and arched her brows at him.

With an inward groan, Darcy looked to Mr. Bennet to apply for aid, but the gentleman, who had his fingers steepled in front of him, simply shrugged and remarked with humor, "This is your doing, son, from what I have heard."

Darcy winced, and glanced again at the matron. Her mouth was set in an unyielding line, but deep in her eyes were dancing lights. _Elizabeth's eyes._ Suddenly, Darcy chuckled at his ridiculous situation, and with a soft look at Mrs. Bennet said, "I truly do not know what to tell her …"

Mrs. Bennet smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "You will. Just go to the east garden. That is where she usually goes when she wants to think. It is cold outside, and I know she forgot her coat."

That did it for Darcy. Resolutely, he stood and strode to the door. Before stepping out, he turned back towards the couple, wordlessly bowed his thanks, and left.

Back in the study, Mrs. Bennet harrumphed, "Those children will _really_ be the death of me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Previously: Suddenly, Darcy chuckled at his ridiculous situation, and with a soft look at Mrs. Bennet said, "I truly do not know what to tell her …"**

**Mrs. Bennet smiled and squeezed his shoulder. "You will. Just go to the east garden. That is where she usually goes when she wants to think. It is cold outside, and I know she forgot her coat."**

**That did it for Darcy. Resolutely, he stood and strode to the door. Before stepping out, he turned back towards the couple, wordlessly bowed his thanks, and left.**

**Back in the study, Mrs. Bennet harrumphed, "Those children will _really_ be the death of me."**

* * *

The scent of lavender and roses still hung in the air despite the cold weather bidding the garden to sleep for now, and Elizabeth took whatever calm she could from their lingering aroma. She often came here to that low stone bench to think, or sometimes to escape her mother. Today, she came to cry. She felt foolish for many reasons – but mostly for having her gullibility thoroughly exposed. All of her self-recriminations from the previous night had come back, and if there was any vestige that had hoped to find vindication in her admiration of Wickham and previous upbraiding of Mr. Darcy, that had been completely crushed as well. Not that it surprised her, truly – her eyes had been well pried open yesterday, and she merely needed the details to fill her in.

_Stupid girl! I am ashamed of you, _she told herself angrily, and swiped away a tear. "I hate myself right now," she said aloud.

"Do not," said a voice behind her. Elizabeth startled, but remained seated, and closed her eyes. _C__ould I not have been spared this mortification?_

"Why not?" she hoarsely countered. "I behaved abominably, believing someone so reprehensible as Mr. Wickham …"

"You did not know of his character ..."

"I should have!" she interrupted furiously, still not turning around. She toed at pebbles on the ground and added, "I thought myself so very clever about people, but because of one instance when I felt myself wronged, I _chose _to look at everything with a jaundiced eye! I even ignored how inconsistent Mr. Wickham's words were from his actions, and I … I was relentless in making sport of you to others, so they thought badly of you also." She sniffed and bent her head. "So, you see, Mr. Darcy, I have reason to hate myself. As do you. I _am_ sorry."

Elizabeth heard him step towards her. There was a rustle of fabric, and then his great coat was draped around her shoulders, immediately enveloping her in its warmth and bringing to her some masculine scent she found pleasing. _It is almost like being embraced, _Elizabeth mused, then sucked in her breath to dispel the thought, even as she gathered the coat more tightly around her.

"There is much to love about you, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy whispered. Elizabeth shivered, but if Mr. Darcy noticed it, he said nothing. Instead, he went around to perch on a boulder some feet away in front of her, one leg stretched full out, and the other bent and braced against the rock. His arms he crossed in front of him for balance. The two were silent. Elizabeth kept her eyes down, but she could feel very strongly Mr. Darcy's eyes on her. _He has always stared at me so_, she remembered … _why? _Gathering her courage, she lifted her eyes and just like yesterday felt his gaze almost as a palpable force. Only this time, there was no reproach in his eyes. There was caution, yes, but there was also something very warm and … _wonderful._

Wordlessly, the pair just stared at each other. It was Mr. Darcy who broke the gaze, as he sighed and looked far off to somewhere. Finally, he spoke in a low voice, "Do not castigate yourself so, Miss Elizabeth. Mr. Wickham truly is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends – it has always been thus. His main commodity is his charm, which is considerable, and he easily gets others to love him …"

"Mr. Darcy, vanity, not love, has been my folly," Elizabeth interrupted. Somehow, she felt it important that he should know this. "And because of that vanity, I was completely taken in by him."

"So have many others, including my own father."

"My motivations were completely in the wrong …"

"I gave you reasons enough for those motivations." Mr. Darcy then pushed himself up from the boulder, walked the few steps to crouch in front of Elizabeth, bringing himself to her eye level. "Miss Elizabeth, when I met you, I _was _rude. I _was _unfeeling. I did not conduct myself as a gentleman ought. Oh, I may come up with every excuse for what I said that evening, but those would simply be that – _excuses_. I wish to God I can remake that evening that I may show you by every civility in my power that I truly esteem you, almost right from the start, from that infamous night."

Tears were swiftly coursing down Elizabeth's cheeks, but she made no attempt to stop them. "And yet, Mr. Darcy, it is more after that first meeting that I committed my grievous mistakes towards you. So prejudiced was I, so set in my dislike, that I took it upon myself to be relentlessly derisive and constantly with malice provoke you to arguments …"

"I relished each and every one of them."

"… just so I could force you to realize that we were not as little-minded as I believed you thought us to be."

Darcy could not resist any longer from touching her. He took one of her cold hands in his, and said, "Never ever little-minded, Elizabeth … simply out of the realm of my experience. Please understand. As a child I was taught what was right, but was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. I was an only son … for many years an only child … and was spoilt by my parents who, though good themselves, allowed and encouraged me to care for none beyond my own family circle."

Darcy's hold tightened. "But even if such fundamentals were ingrained in me by my upbringing, I managed to build strong, genuine friendships with people like Bingley, who is from trade - and others not from the same circles as I. Even Wickham the steward's son was my friend for a time, though our relationship has soured. Here in Hertfordshire, I have met people I have come to admire, as you and Mrs. Bennet" - they exchanged a smile there – "people who _every day_ are teaching me more about the world, and not just the society I grew up in." Darcy squeezed her hand a little. "I hope you understand that I am still learning, that I am still in a process … and you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, have become my teacher, and I want it to be always so."_ There! It is said, and I will not take it back, _Darcy thought to himself.

Elizabeth froze. "What are you saying, Mr. Darcy?"

"That I desire to get to know you better." Darcy took a deep breath and forged on, "That I would like to explore who we can be to one another. Also that I think we can have a great future together, with you and me teaching each one and being each other's world, and simply … " Darcy whispered his next words, and slowly began caressing her hand with his thumb, "_l-loving _each other …"

Elizabeth was stunned. Never could she have dreamed of this! This was not a proposal, not yet … but it sounded as though Mr. Darcy had thought long and hard about joining _his _heart with _hers. _That he was even falling in love with her! Could it be … could she …? She had no words to say, and only stared at the pair of pleading blue eyes in front of her, seeing _his heart, his soul, _for the first time. At that moment, in Elizabeth's mind, a more gentle sensation came towards this man than she had ever felt in the height of their acquaintance.

_Yes, I think I can. Love him, that is - as I think he would love me if we let our feelings grow. _She wanted to speak, but was fully lost in his eyes. _Beautiful,_ _mesmerizing eyes, set in so handsome a face. What a pleasure that bestows! _As Elizabeth continued to stare and ponder, she recognized a growing mischievous glint in her companion's eyes.

"Miss Elizabeth … my legs are getting stiff and I can hardly feel them."

The unexpected ridiculousness of the pronouncement caught Elizabeth Grace Bennet by surprise, and she laughed – a joyous, tinkling sound that was quietly joined by the low resonant tones of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had been looking out the bookroom window at intervals for about an hour now, and finally saw a tall man walking toward the house with a smiling woman on his arm. Even from a distance, they could hear their shared laughter, indicating that the pair was happy and completely at ease with one another. On pauses, the two would share occasional glances that spoke volumes. A pang struck Avery Bennet's heart.

Not many minutes ago, Charles Bingley applied to him for permission to court his oldest daughter, and such permission was speedily dispatched. Now Avery felt certain that another interview was afoot, this time concerning his beloved Lizzy. _Changes indeed are coming_, he mused, _some not so welcome - _ he stole a glance at his wife - _but some very much so. _He smiled. _My bride, _he thought, and chuckled when he noted the triumphant smirk on her face as she looked out at the young couple nearing the house. Avery gave a mock snort, "I thought they did not even like each other!" A part of him – a very tiny part – was loath to give his Lizzy away to another man, but it seemed that soon he would be overruled.

"It seems we were wrong," said Esther Bennet breathily, her eyes still on Lizzy and Mr. Darcy.

Avery quietly rejoined, "It would not be the first time for me, would it?"

"No," Esther chuckled, "and it would not be the last, either." Avery looked at her with mock-affront, and joined her in her cheer.

"Well, my dear," he said after a pause, walking back to sit down at his desk, "if anyone should come for Mary, Kitty or Lydia, let him come in. I am quite at my leisure."

* * *

Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet acknowledged her two most deserving daughters' suitors. True, theirs was only at courting stage, but so confident was the matriarch of her daughters' charms that she believed she would be planning weddings before long. "Mrs. Bingley, how well that sounds!"she repeatedly exclaimed, and Jane was only thankful that her Charles had left after a joyful luncheon repast with Darcy and the Bennets, and thus was not around to hear such exclamations. "And Mrs. Darcy - what carriages, what pin money! Ten thousand a year and very likely more!"

Lydia was another matter altogether. She harrumphed and whined at every opportunity because of the freedoms that had been curtailed from her since this morning. "Mr. Darcy? Phooey!" she cried inelegantly. "What would we do with such a man? I would rather see him flogged instead for treating dear Wickham so! Lizzy would agree if her head is not so turned with that horrible man's ten thousand a year!"

Elizabeth whirled on her so fast that Jane thought her head would fly off, but before she could speak, Mrs. Bennet's cold voice broke through. "Lydia, listen and listen well. I want to speak of Mr. Wickham ..."

She related all that Mr. Darcy told them, first to refute the infamous denial of the promised living, then to recite Wickham's penchant for carousing and debauchery. Rather impressively to Elizabeth, Mrs. Bennet carefully left out the involvement of Georgiana Darcy (much to Lizzy's relief), but made sure she related, with even as much kindness as possible and only turning to Elizabeth for clarification on some points, the folly of other ladies in other places (maybe even their own village), including the sisters of his university friends. "This could have been your fate, had Mr. Darcy not intervened. He also has documents from Meryton detailing the man's debts gotten in less than one month. The whole amount, Lydia, is bigger than what you would see in a year! For your sake and your sisters', there will no more be mention of Mr. Wickham in this house, nor any disrespect toward Mr. Darcy." And with that, she turned and left the room, with looks from her girls ranging from admiration and respect, to utter shock. After a while, Lydia, while obviously rattled to the core, also stood and tried to walk as proudly as she could to leave.

Kitty herself was shaken. She went up to Elizabeth and asked in a squeaky voice. "Lizzy, I did not know. I swear. What Mama said ... is true?" Elizabeth nodded. "And Papa? He left with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley after luncheon. Where is he now?"

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances, but it was Mary who spoke. "He has gone to Meryton with the gentlemen. They will see to the business of Mr. Wickham."


	12. Chapter 12

**Previously: Kitty was shaken. She went up to Elizabeth and asked in a squeaky voice. "Lizzy, I did not know. I swear. What Mama said ... is true?" Elizabeth nodded. "And Papa? Where is he now?"**

**Jane and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances, but it was Mary who spoke. "He has gone to Meryton with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. They will see to the business of Mr. Wickham."**

* * *

Apparently, news of Mr. Darcy's visit earlier that morning to settle another man's pile of debts had quickly spread and sparked a chain reaction among various business proprietors in Meryton. Mr. Bennet was to accompany Mr. Darcy to Colonel Forster's regiment to report on Wickham's activities (Bingley had gone on ahead to Netherfield to share happy news with his sister), when he noticed that upon entry into the village, they were greeted with many smiles and effusive greetings by ladies and gentlemen alike, and received deferential requests from a few men for some moments of Mr. Darcy's time. It was, as Mr. Bennet laughingly put it, the gentleman's "triumphal entry." The older gentleman now watched the younger one being surrounded by five merchants, all politely asking him questions about Mr. Wickham. _He certainly commands respect, _he mused, watching the young man calmly answer the queries, and simply laid back to observe the man at work.

There in a quaint little Meryton tea shop where that little group repaired (with offers of "a spot of tea and cucumber sandwiches on the house!" by the proprietor), the Master of Longbourn saw Fitzwilliam Darcy overturn the locals' notion of him in one fell swoop. He was no longer high and mighty; instead, Mr. Darcy was now perceived as genial but sharp, proud but not disdainful, dignified and understandably private, but not unfriendly. Of the matter at hand, Mr. Darcy gave sparse details of his history with Wickham, not bothering with the more personal side of things but concentrating more on the latter's predilection to rack up debts. The insightful young man had rightly figured that this would be the matter most meaningful to the merchants of the small town, anyway.

_The more indelicate side involving Wickham's taste for women would be taken more kindly from a long-time resident as myself,_ Mr. Bennet mused and, with his habitual indolence rearing its head, almost lamented being involved in the mess. But he remembered his wife's determination and Lizzy's expectation. _No, I must do what is right ,_ Mr. Bennet thought. He stole a look at Mr. Darcy and realized that in so short a time, many things had changed in Longbourn, and would continue beyond. _All because of this stoic young man. How incredible._

He was pulled out of his musings by the voice of Mr. Savage, the tea shop owner. "Mr. Darcy, while we appreciate your generous offer of cleaning up Mr. Wickham's mess, do you not think you are putting too heavy a burden on yourself?"

"No, sir," came the reply, "the fault is mine, and so must the remedy be. It was through my reserve that Mr. Wickham's character has not been made known to the world. Had I not thought it beneath me to lay my private actions open to the world, his character would have been exposed and he would not have had the opportunity to take advantage of honest merchants like you. It is simply right that I warn the regiment's commander to let him know of the unbefitting behavior of one of his officers. In fact, that was where Mr. Bennet and I were headed. But please allow me now to settle whatever debt Mr. Wickham owes each of you …", and he proceeded to bring out his bank notes.

"Mr. Darcy," this time it was the confectioner Mr. Herrick who spoke quickly, "I really do think you take too much upon yourself. We only wanted to know the circumstances of what we heard this morning, out of concern for our fellow merchants …"

"I must insist on this, sir," Mr. Darcy cut in. "I assure you that in this matter, argument is fruitless. The responsibility is mine. I shall not give way." Silence filled the room for a long moment, each man looking at others to determine each other's thoughts.

Finally, the strong voice of Mr. Warren, owner of a highly successful inn in Meryton, piped in, "No." Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, and before Mr. Darcy could issue another protest, Mr. Warren raised his hand. "No, Mr. Darcy … I think there is a wiser course. These gentlemen and I will go to Colonel Forster's regiment. **_We_** will hand to him our various bills, and strongly request that he dock the pay of Mr. Wickham as **_we_** report to him all the unbecoming conduct of his officer. The citizens of this town must be the one to do this act." Mr. Darcy was still shaking his head in protest, but Mr. Warren would give him no quarter in this area.

"Besides, Mr. Darcy," here Mr. Warren gave a small smile, "I have heard enough gossiping from my own employees at the inn to realize that his misbehaviors extend to more than obtaining credit … ladies anywhere are never safe with him." Some of the men had a sharp intake of breath; others were silent. Mr. Darcy lowered his eyes for a moment, then started to explain that it may not be easy to recoup their losses, so would it not be simpler and more efficient that he simply cover them and hold the notes?

"No, Mr. Darcy," said Mr. Warren firmly. "You have to let us keep our community pride and take care of things our way." Mr. Bennet watched Mr. Darcy startle a little at this, even as the young man's eyes opened up more in dawning respect for this local group of businessmen.

This look became even more pronounced when another merchant, a Mr. Stevens of the souvenir store, also spoke up. "This will ensure too that your name is kept out as much as possible, Mr. Darcy. We hardly know if Mr. Wickham is vengeful, sir, but if he is, and he realizes that you have _everything_ to do with his downfall, he would most likely come after you with intent to harm. But towards us as a collective, he would hardly be in any position to do damage. Mr. Warren is right – this is the better way."

To this, Mr. Jones the apothecary chimed in genially, "I suppose this is saying that, Mr. Darcy, we protect our own. And this includes _you._"

Many sorts of emotions passed Mr. Darcy's face at that moment – topped by approval of as well as respect and admiration for the men facing him. Mr. Bennet thought he also detected a touch of relief in the young man, although he highly suspected it was not at being put out of harm's way, but more of not having to encounter Wickham anytime soon. As the master of Longbourn continued to study Mr. Darcy's face, it dawned on him that the self-sufficient Derbyshire gentleman was undergoing a lesson as well: he was learning more of trust beyond rank or classes. He watched Mr. Darcy bow to the gentlemen in a profound display of respect and appreciation.

Inordinately, Mr. Bennet felt a rush of pride for the even greater man that this lanky fellow was becoming – and then felt struck by a sense of humility at the thought of himself. _I have much to work on, _he said._ But I would be proud to call this man my son._

* * *

The next three days were spent in quiet courtship between Darcy and Lizzy, as well as Charles and Jane. Often the couples would walk out into the fields and meadows of Hertfordshire, or to Oakham Mount, catching the last of the autumn colors. They were mainly each other's chaperones, although Mary or Kitty would occasionally join them, as would Stephen and Louisa Hurst. There was a blossoming friendship between Jane and Louisa, which was an immense encouragement to Charles – to his mind, Louisa had been much improved since she was removed from Caroline's influence. Stephen Hurst quietly agreed to that pronouncement, eliciting an understanding look from Charles as to its meaning, and from then on a stronger brotherly bond was also forged between the two men.

Lydia never joined them in their excursions, and even sought to actively avoid Mr. Darcy's company. Lizzy charged the reason for Lydia's less than exuberant behavior to having a rather stricter Mr. Bennet these days, with full backing of Mrs. Bennet. It was not even as if Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had been unreasonable, though – all they required was that Lydia not walk to anywhere alone, and she had to be especially watchful of the militia officers.

No mention of Wickham passed the gentlemen's lips, as both Darcy and Mr. Bennet refused to speak of how their task went those few days ago, except to insist that they had to "wait and see."

However, Mrs. Bennet's sister, Mrs. Phillips, "an enthusiastic walking, talking, newssheet of Hertfordshire" (as Mr. Bennet sardonically put it one morning) paid a call to Longbourn during tea one day and relayed to them some happenings in the village. "It seems there is a clean-up happening among the businesses, Esther. Proprietors now refuse to extend credit to the militia officers whose bills are above four pounds, or more than a fortnight outstanding! Colonel Forster himself invited the merchants to bring to him or his chief purser those bills that are near such." She tittered. "Oh, sister, where have you been now? For three days you have shunned the ladies of our town!" she teased.

Esther Bennet laughed, and affected a flighty mien. "Oh, pshaw, I hardly shunned anyone, Maggie! But with such worthy gentlemen courting my girls, I simply must attend to several things, you know!" She paused, then spoke more sedately. "Tell me, Maggie … is there a particular officer that is in much trouble with Colonel Forster?"

An annoyed look crossed Maggie's face. "Oh, you must mean Mr. Wickham!" she said. "Oh! Esther, how could we have been taken in by him? How is such a man to be worked on? From what I heard last, he owed close to a hundred pounds total … and oh, sister, I heard some sordid tales from the local tavern … they are too shameful to speak of! Do you know Mr. Keith the butcher's daughter had fallen with child? They say it was because of Mr. Wickham! And there is also the daughter of that family just moved in from Berkshire …"

A gasp came from the doorway, and the two matrons turned. Lydia and Kitty were standing there, bonnets in hand upon coming home from a short call to one of their friends. Kitty was looking worriedly at her youngest sister, who was fixed there with a pale face – and a wild and petrified look about her eyes.

"Lydia dear, are you alright? Whatever is the matter?" asked Aunt Phillips in surprise.

"Mama … I … I did not …" she began to stammer. Then frantically looking around at the faces there in the Longbourn drawing room, she burst into tears and ran out of the room. Her footsteps pounded on the stairs shortly, as Kitty quickly made her excuse and ran after her sister while calling out her name.

The other ladies sat there in shocked silence for a while. Then Mrs. Bennet, shaking herself out of a freeze, softly called out to her remaining daughter who had been sitting at the writing desk intent on a book of prayers, "Mary … please, would you go and look for Jane and Lizzy and bring them home? I expect that their gentlemen would be staying to dinner … that would be fine, of course," she said absently. Mary obediently stood up to go. Then Mrs. Bennet feebly smiled at her sister. "Maggie, pray excuse me. Lydia had been feeling rather poorly lately – she is recovering from a … ahh … bad cold, and I should not have allowed her to step out of the house this cold day. You go finish your tea while I go attend to my daughter, and I will return your visit tomorrow." A brief kiss on the cheek sealed the dismissal.

Mrs. Bennet climbed the stairs with trembling legs. She had never prayed as fervently as she was doing now, and had never wished herself wrong in her suspicions as hard as she was doing so now. _Dear God in heaven, please no …_

* * *

**Do you like Darcy's round table discussion with the men of Meryton? Twas a good experience for him, methinks. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Today, we find out a little bit more of a transforming Lydia (maybe), and gain a glimpse into Georgiana. Ready?**

* * *

**Previously: Mrs. Bennet climbed up the stairs with trembling legs. She had never prayed as fervently as she was doing now, and had never wished herself wrong in her suspicions as hard as she was doing so now. ****_Dear God in heaven, please no …_**

* * *

Mrs. Bennet had not far to go before she found her two youngest daughters – or at least one of them, although it was evident where the other one was. Kitty was rattling the knob of the door leading to the attic stairs while also pounding on the surface. "Lyddie, please," she begged. "Open the door. I want to make sure you are alright."

"Go away," came the muffled tones of Lydia from the other side of the door.

"Please, Lydia," Kitty begged. "We always talk about everything, do we not?"

Mrs. Bennet stood on the side for a while, petrified to the core. She wanted to call for her salts, but a hazy memory shone – two cherub-faced little girls claiming this dimly-lit stairwell as their place for "princesses and castles." Mrs. Bennet's eyes stung. _Dear God, please do not let her be with child. I am trying hard to be a better mother! Give me a chance! _She could hear Lydia's sobs from the stairwell and saw Kitty's helpless face, and felt her heart twist within. "Lydia?" she whispered.

"Mama?" came a broken response.

"Yes, Lydia," Mrs. Bennet answered, doing her best to speak evenly. "Open the door, child." She laid a gentle hand on Kitty's shoulder to lend strength, but faltered at the sound of more sobs. The matron tried a different tack. "Oh heavens, Lydia Ruth Bennet, stop for a while and talk to me, or we are both going to need to call Hill for my salts!" She was gratified to see Kitty smile a little at that, and was encouraged when Lydia paused as well.

Hurried footsteps sounded in the far stairs leading to where they were. Mrs. Bennet was relieved to see Elizabeth, Mary and Jane round the corner, followed by Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley. "Mama!" cried Lizzy, immediately running to give her mother a light hug of relief. "Mary said you needed us. Are you alright?"

"I am, Lizzy. T'is Lydia. She refuses to come out of there. She started crying frantically when …" at this Mrs. Bennet swallowed and could not continue. She was terrified. _Oh, what will happen to you dear girls if scandal touches us? Will your young men love you enough to overlook the mess? _Unconsciously, Mrs. Bennet looked up at the tall form of Mr. Darcy, and was somewhat startled to find him intently looking into her face, trying to discern anything of what had set off the maelström. Mr. Darcy's brows furrowed his question – and again, Mrs. Bennet stood transfixed, unable to drag her eyes away. She had no doubt that she communicated her thoughts to the young man, though unwillingly. _I am afraid._ Immediately, the gentleman's eyes softened in recognition and he reached out a comforting hand. Mrs. Bennet took it and held tightly.

"Lyddie? Lyddie, open the door, please." Jane rattled the knob as well as she called out to the youngest Bennet.

"J-Jane? Is that you?"

"Yes, Lydia, it is I. Would you open up for me?"

They heard a sniff from the other side. "I do not want to." More blowing of nose, then Lydia called out, "Is Lizzy with you?" She received an affirmative answer. "Is … is M-Mr. Darcy there, too?" Everyone was silent, wondering how to calmly but effectively approach the situation.

Finally, Mr. Darcy himself spoke in low tones, "I am here, Miss Lydia. Mr. Bingley is here as well. Do you wish that we leave?"

Silence was broken only by hiccups from Lydia. Then her tiny squeak was heard. "Yes." Mr. Darcy sighed, and nodded to Charles to give the Bennets privacy. As they turned, however, they again heard Lydia speak in hardly more than a whisper, "Wait." They paused, and Lydia said through the door, "I am sorry I did not believe you, Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy breathed in deeply. The reason for the furor was becoming more and more clear to him: _Wickham_. "I suppose it is alright, Miss Lydia. It is a difficult story to take in." He was quiet for a while, then summoned his courage to speak again of a painful subject before he left. "I h-hope he has not h-harmed you, Miss L-Lydia." There was no response at all, and Darcy took that as his cue to leave with Bingley, after a gentle look at Elizabeth (and mouthing "I will see you tomorrow") as well as a tiny squeeze of Mrs. Bennet's hand.

When their footsteps faded, Kitty called, "They have gone, Lyddie. Please, would you come out now?"

After a slight hesitation, they heard a rustle from within. The door slowly swung open a notch, enough for Lydia's frightened eyes to peer through. Reassured that indeed the men had left, she stepped out into the hallway with the rest of the Bennet ladies. Her hair was matted and disordered around her face, her nose red and eyes puffed with crying, and her overall look wan and troubled.

Quickly, Mrs. Bennet ran a critical eye over her youngest daughter's form for any sign of being with child. Her studied gaze yielded nothing, however. Lydia had always been on the rounded side, though not overly so, and at fifteen still retained some of her childish plumpness. Jane was the same at that age. _Well_, the matron remarked to herself, _this does not help me at all. I truly cannot tell one way or another. Should I just ask her straight away?_

Even while her mind was still processing this option, Mrs. Bennet's mouth made a beeline for independent definitive decision, and she found herself blurting: "Lydia dear … are you with child?"

And with that, pandemonium broke.

* * *

Back in Netherfield, Darcy was all wrapped up in his thoughts that he barely remembered arriving at Bingley's home, handing Kublai's reins to the stable boy and telling Bingley he would like to rest in his chamber. The two gentlemen were supposed to have supper at Longbourn, but the events of the afternoon deemed it best to let the Bennets have the evening to themselves, and simply share a light repast in Netherfield in two hours' time with the Hursts.

Darcy tried to relax now in the bath that Terence had drawn for him, but his mind was swirling with too many thoughts, his heart remembering too many pains. Miss Lydia's timid voice, so unlike the girl herself, as well as her need to hide herself, opened his Pandora's box of last summer's memories that he had been trying to forget …

_Georgiana was sitting on her bed. It was almost mid-afternoon, but the young lady was still in her nightclothes, quite unkempt. How dispirited she looked, how forlorn! Fitzwilliam knelt beside her and tried to take her hand, but she pulled away and turned her face to the opposite side. Fitzwilliam sighed. __"Georgiana, sweetling," he pleaded. "Will you not look at me?"_

_"No, brother, please … I cannot bear it." _

_"Cannot bear what? Georgiana, I only want to tell you that I love you."_

_"You cannot love me. I am filthy, and have dishonored you and disgraced our name. You would be right to hate me, William."_

_"Hate you? How can I do that, Georgiana? You are my most beloved sister … my only sister! You are all the family I have left!"_

_"Well, mayhaps, William, I will give you one more who is family. We will find out in a few months, will we not?" Each word his sister uttered cut Fitzwilliam deeply. Her voice – bitter, soulful that he knew masked fear - came from one who had always been full of joy and sweetness and innocent hope … his little sister Georgiana …_

"God!" Fitzwilliam Darcy shouted in agony, slapping the water surface with all his strength and splashing water everywhere. "When is this all going to end?" He put two fists against the sides of his head, as though trying to squeeze out all troubled thoughts, but in vain. "Georgiana …" he whispered. "It is happening all over again." He laid his head down on his pulled-up knees and closed his eyes, and finally stopped fighting the memories.

By God, he rejoiced quietly when Georgiana's monthlies came over a fortnight later, proving conclusively that no child had been conceived out of the ill-fated union. Georgiana was relieved as well, having discovered in the course of the whole debacle that George Wickham had been after her dowry and revenge all along. But she was never the same again. Melancholy and self-loathing mummified her, and nothing that Fitzwilliam did could shake her out of her hell.

Wickham tried blackmail, but Darcy coldly rebuffed him. "I hold all your debt notes, Wickham … enough to send you to debtor's prison two lifetimes over. And I have testimony upon testimony of your cheating ways at the game table. Do you know how many members of the Peerage are itching to get their hands around your scrawny neck? The burly men of Baron von Meer always have you in their sights – were you aware of this? The only thing keeping them from acting is my longstanding friendship with the Baron, but one sign from me would be all it takes. I hear that they maim the Baron's enemies for life with their bare hands." He moved closer to Wickham until he was almost nose to nose with the miscreant. "Watch it, you old fool. Not only would society take my word over yours any day – but your life truly is in my hands." Wickham glared back at Darcy, but he knew that his nervousness showed, and he walked away from Darcy with a sneer.

Darcy closed his eyes in painful remembrance. "I need to get out of here," he said aloud. He hurriedly got up from the tub, splotching water as he did. Quickly, he called Terence for riding clothes instead of dinner clothes, instructing his man to inform Mr. Bingley that he might not make it to supper, after all. He was going to ride the wind with Kublai again.

* * *

Late autumn's evening shadows had naturally set in early, and it was almost deep dark when Darcy returned Kublai to the stables, thankful that there was still the late groomsman to tend to his mount for a quick rubdown. The night air did much to clear Darcy's head – he had determined that whatever situation Miss Lydia would find herself in, he would stand by the Bennets. They deserved that much, and more. Wickham would not triumph in any case. _He will not take away any more of my joy, _Darcy declared to himself as he walked from the stables to the manor. _He tried to do so with Georgiana. But as for me, Wickham will never take away my loyalty to Elizabeth._

_Nor will he destroy my love for her._

Darcy paused in mid-stride at what he had just admitted to himself. _I love her, _he thought with some wonder. _I love Elizabeth Bennet._

At that moment, Darcy felt energy course through him, and he ran the rest of the way to the house, past the doorman whom he greeted cheerily ("Good evening, Hodges, you do a splendid job with the door!"), past the drawing room footman to whom he called out whilst running to his chambers ("Wilkins, tell Mr. Bingley I will see him on the morrow!"), past Stephen and Louisa Hurst who heard him come in and were going to say something to him ("Good evening, Stephen; good evening, Louisa, you are both looking very lovely this evening!") – all backed with a goofy grin – and quickly entered his rooms where he could be assured of privacy. Once there, Darcy gave a boyish squeal, and danced the Irish jig in ecstatic circles. _I love her, I love her, I love her!_

"Darcy, what the dickens are you doing?" came a strong voice from a corner of the chamber.

It was followed by a soft chuckle and a breathy, "Hello, brother."

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Previously: **"**Darcy, what the dickens are you doing?" came a strong voice from a corner of the chamber. It was followed by a soft chuckle and a breathy, "Hello, brother."**

* * *

"Georgiana!" Darcy cried in surprise, turning beet red as could be, as he quickly tried to don his foreboding Master of Pemberley mien that could scare anyone to silence. It was, however, a losing proposition. Even the embarrassment of having been caught doing the jig could not temper the exuberance of his newfound revelation, and Darcy found himself rushing to his sister, lifting her off her feet for a swing, and making the young lady gasp and her brother chuckle even more.

"And Colonel David Fitzwilliam!" He went next to his favorite cousin, who backed up hissing, "Do not dare pick me up, Darcy, or I will run you through!" With a laugh, Darcy settled for a handshake instead.

"What are you both doing here?" he inquired as soon as greetings were done. "I was going to send for you, but was waiting to see the conclusion of something I started …"

David replied succinctly,"I have military business in the area," and with a nod at Georgiana, "and _she _wanted to see her favorite brother."

"Who happens to be her only brother," Darcy said with a smile, as he gently took Georgiana's hand in his and gave it a light kiss. Georgiana smiled shyly.

"That does not preclude the favoritism," she insisted. "I _have_ missed you, brother. Cousin David and his mother have been a tremendous help to me these last months, and I thought it was time I see you …"

That was the longest speech that Darcy had heard from Georgiana for several months now, and his heart rejoiced. _My sister is recovering, thank God. _He touched her cheek lightly. "I am happy to hear this, sweetling," he said gently. "I have missed you as well. I have much to tell you … but now I see you swaying on your feet, and so I believe it is off to bed with you!" Georgiana smiled, and admitted that she did feel rather tired. Darcy kissed her forehead and whispered, "Tomorrow, I shall tell you all …"

A giggle escaped his sister's lips, surprising and pleasing Darcy. "I believe I can guess. Your latest letters have been full of stories about a young woman with fine eyes. She truly must be worth dancing a jig for." Darcy's face burned up to the ears.

"Do you need me to walk you to your chamber?" he tenderly asked after shaking his head in mock exasperation. Georgiana declined; Mrs. Hurst had been kind enough to give her the chamber next to William's – between his and David's, in fact – even without prior word of their coming. With a last smile and a nod to her cousin, Georgiana bade the gentlemen good night.

As soon as she left the room, Darcy shot David an unsure look, "I truly am glad to see you, David, and ecstatic to see Georgiana much improved, but I am not quite sure this is the right timing. Wickham …"

"Wickham is the military business I spoke of, William," David cut in then gave a tight smile. "I have my orders regarding him. Actually, I volunteered to carry out the assignment myself, when I saw who was involved." David saw Darcy's apprehensive look, and sought to reassure him. "Not to worry about Georgiana, Darcy, she is aware of all this. But I promise, everything will work out, and Wickham will never even know of Georgiana's presence here. I act to complete the assignment first thing tomorrow."

Darcy looked on dubiously, but decided to trust his military cousin. He sighed. "What will happen to him?"

"I will let you know when it has been carried out." Darcy started to protest, but David held up his hand. "Just procedure, cousin … you know this. But as I have promised, everything will work out. Be at ease. I will see this to the end." And he grinned. "Rightly too, because I have a feeling _you _started all of this with the people of Meryton … yes? I am impressed. But I must have my share of the amusement now … and so I shall! I have waited for this long enough!" Darcy chuckled. David then rubbed his hands in a gleeful manner. "Now, cousin, before I retire, why not tell me what the Irish jig was for when you came in, hmm?"

That remark brought the goofy grin right back on Darcy's face, which made David laugh out loud, and the two cousins spent the large part of the hour talking about the brightest jewel of Hertfordshire county.

* * *

The night passed uneasily at Longbourn. Nobody had any real rest, as everyone's edginess reverberated so strongly that it may well have been the whole house quaking. Elizabeth, sitting by the window as usual when unable to sleep, looked out beyond the hills where she knew Netherfield was. _William, _Elizabeth whispered in her heart, as though that name was her lifeline_. _Only the low wind answered.

_Would these events drive you away, William? _Elizabeth felt her heart twist. _I do not want to lose you. _It was clear now to Lizzy that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her - his understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes, and their union would be to the advantage of both. By her ease and liveliness, he would loosen in disposition; and from his experience and knowledge of the world, she would benefit exponentially. _But now what, William?_ Elizabeth hardly knew.

Morning was not far from breaking. Lizzy rose to go back to bed to at least rest when she heard a soft rap on her door. _Jane for sure, _she thought with a smile, and giving her permission, was very surprised to find her mother there. She smiled her welcome.

"I could hear you moving about, child. Could you not sleep?" the matron asked as she came in and sat down beside Lizzy on the window seat. "You would not want to scare Mr. Darcy away with puffy eyes and gray face, would you?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I do not think it would be the puffy eyes and gray face that would scare Mr. Darcy away, Mama," she replied sadly, and leaned her head back against the window. "What have we done to us?"

Mrs. Bennet was silent for a few moments. "I think … you can lay the blame … right on my shoulders, Lizzy. I am the mother, and I should be able …

Lizzy startled at this. "What? No …" she laid a calming hand on her mother's arm, and thought about what to say. "Mama … the last few days have given me the gift of your eyes, and I think I begin to see more from your vantage point. Not that I am in complete agreement all the time, but I now see more of the why rather than just the what. And Mama, in this matter, you cannot claim sole responsibility." She breathed deeply and continued before her mother could speak. "No. I think we all have a part to play here. I am not exactly a child anymore, Mama, and yet I have never truly reached out to any of my sisters, save Jane, nor have I taught them anything of value. I have been too complacent, too self-absorbed, too trusting only of myself and my abilities …"

"You are my most intelligent child, Lizzy," Mrs. Bennet reminded her.

"That hardly makes me infallible, Mama."

Mrs. Bennet snorted. "I am not saying that at all. I am saying that you, despite some detours, do make the most sound decisions based on principle … and Lizzy, I would trust you to lead your sisters, especially Lydia, through this. They need your strength, dear … and perhaps so do I."

Elizabeth felt her tears threaten. "T'is a big responsibility, Mama …" she whispered.

"Which I know you can carry. But not alone. Lizzy, never alone." Mrs. Bennet stroke her daughter's cheek. "I am so proud of you, Elizabeth Bennet. All your life, I have known you were molded for something special. I may not have done the best job with you," she saw Lizzy shaking her head in protest, but she shook her head back as well and repeated, "I may not have done the best job with you, but I did try. And as God is my witness, I will keep on trying. You are a good girl, and you do me proud."

Elizabeth sniffed. "I think I know what Mr. Darcy sees in you, Mama."

Mrs. Bennet gave a soft laugh. "Oh, I have known all along." She kissed her daughter's forehead, and looked at Lizzy straight in the eye to say, "He sees _you."_

* * *

Mrs. Bennet went back to Elizabeth's window seat long after she led Lizzy back to her bed to catch a few more hours of sleep. She listened to her daughter's even breathing, and sighed. _It has been an exhausting night._

Yesterday's upheaval still echoed in her heart. Having coaxed a disheveled Lydia out of her hiding place, Mrs. Bennet knew she should not have carelessly blurted out that question that upended everyone's world: "Lydia, are you with child?" Blatant gasps, muffled cries, horrified exclamations, her own thumping heart and blood rush – all mingled into a cacophony of percussions in Mrs. Bennet's brain as she fought for control, and through the disembodied thudding that everything had become, Lydia's frightened whisper broke through.

"I do not know, Mama."

Silence fell, heavy like a mantle upon six women's hearts. Vaguely, Mrs. Bennet recalled Elizabeth falling back two paces to slide against the wall, and Mary reaching out to hold her. She herself plopped right there on the floor, her face pale and stricken. Kitty cried. Jane put her hand against her mouth and knew not what to say.

Then from somewhere down the hallway came her husband's anguished voice. "Oh, Lydia … my baby girl." Instinctively, Mrs. Bennet knew that the centerpiece of his feelings was self-remonstration. She felt her own heart break. Then in a gesture she had not seen for a long time, Avery Bennet wordlessly opened his arms to his hurting and frightened little girl, and Lydia rushed to him sobbing, clinging as tight as she could to her father – for once her protector and tower of strength. Her agonized words came in a torrent.

"Papa! I did not know … truly, Papa, I did not know what was happening. Mr. Wickham was always nice .…" In bits and pieces, the story came out. Two days ago, she and Kitty were meandering on a trail behind Longbourne. Kitty wanted to explore off-ways for last floral vestiges, but Lydia, not much for the cold weather, decided to go home. The sisters separated, and on the way, Lydia was pleased to find Wickham. In a rush of rebellion against her parents' injunctions, she stayed to speak with the officer.

"We just talked at first," she said, "then he leaned in and kissed me. It was the first time he kissed me on my mouth, you see," she hiccupped, "and next thing I knew, he had me up against a tree and my bodice was pushed down and I was exposed, and he bunched up my skirts while he let down his breeches' fall …" Mr. Bennet tried to shush her, unwilling to hear details, but Lydia would not be stopped.

"Then he heard Kitty calling, and he quickly ran away."

Everyone froze. Mrs. Bennet felt hope stir in her heart, and she slowly got up from the floor. "What did you say …?"

"He heard Kitty's voice and he ran away, and I had to pull my bodice up again. I am sorry, Mama … I am so sorry! I exposed myself to him, and he touched my breasts and my thighs, and now I do not know if I am with child …"

"Hold a blasted minute, young lady!" roared a now fully-roused Mrs. Bennet who cared nothing for decorous language at the moment. "Let us go through this story again, from the time that _that man_ was touching you. Did he or did he not … ahhh …" she stopped. Indecorous language was one thing, but indelicate topic was another. She cleared her throat. "Did he or did he not …"

"Act like Papa's horses when they are in heat?" interrupted Mary with more excitement than her family had ever seen. Mr. Bennet had a comical expression on his face when he looked at Mary.

"Patty the mare and Freddie the stud?" Lydia asked. "Ewww. No. But Papa," she continued with a sob, "he _did _grope me here and there, and …" her eyes grew wide and she pulled back from her father's arms to gaze up at him. "Does this mean that I cannot be …?"

Mrs. Bennet grabbed her youngest daughter by the shoulders and whirled her around to face her. Rapidly, she planted kisses all over her face, crying and laughing at the same time. "Oh, you foolish, foolish, darling girl …" More kisses. "I should put you over my knee and give you a good spanking." And still more kisses. "Oh, how vexing you are. I need Hill … Hill! Hiiiiillllll!" She bolted downstairs in search of her salts.

But not before she heard Mr. Bennet say, "Well, my dear, I at last learn to be cautious. You are not to stir out of doors till you can prove that you can spend ten minutes of everyday in a rational manner. And if you are a good girl in the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of them."

Mrs. Bennet sighed now as she remembered this._ I think I will make sure you enforce that, husband_ – and smiled gently at the new day dawning.

* * *

**AN: Did I get you good? ****_Did I? _****Would you care to comment, please?**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Sorry for the wait. But at least I get to tell you now what happens to Wickham (and we gain more insight into his proclivities)! I did my best to research on military procedures during that time, but sadly am not much wiser than I was. Read on and tell me what you think.**

* * *

**Previously: She heard Mr. Bennet say, "Well, my dear, I at last learn to be cautious. You are not to stir out of doors till you can prove that you can spend ten minutes of everyday in a rational manner. Well, well, you smile now … if you are a good girl in the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of them."**

**Mrs. Bennet smiled now as she remembered this._ I think I will make sure you enforce that, husband_ – and sighed gently at the new day just coming.**

* * *

It was still dark when George Wickham gingerly rolled off his bed at the inn where the militia was billeted, and grimaced at the creaking noise it made. He was planning escape, _and that rickety old cot is going to give me away! Not fit for a pauper, _he complained, and was thankful for the chance to leave it – and all things militia – far behind. This was not what he signed up for.

Ever since three days ago when Colonel Forster singled him out for hard duties – and humiliating him before his peers – Wickham had wanted this escape. He hated his so-called friend Denny, who recruited him into service, for misleading him about the rewards of being in this regiment. _Prospect of constant and good society indeed, _he scoffed. _Bah! I thought this to be a most agreeable corps with plenty of chances for women's company and gentlemen's pleasures … not this!_

Wickham got latrine duty and kitchen post, his pay was cut in half, and was issued a warning to stay away from women! Granted, it was only the last three days that it had been so, but to Wickham, it was three days too many. He could not figure out what happened - for weeks, the going had been good - but ever since five Meryton merchants showed up to speak with Colonel Forster,_ I have been assigned humiliating work and repeatedly snubbed in establishments in the village! I will not stand for it_, he gritted._ I will get away from this confounded town - and that tavern wench who promised to meet me before dawn will help me, as I help myself to her!_

He grinned lasciviously at the thought of the voluptuous blonde whose name he did not even know – images of moist, pulsating, gyrating flesh excited him and made him sweat. His need was great, as it always was with him, and deprivation was literally making George experience tremors and nervous palpations of one desperate for a fix. As he thought of his coming relief, he swallowed in anticipation. _Blast that interruption with the Bennet chit two days ago - that would have addressed the deficit_, he thought.

With senses now heightened, Wickham quickly gathered his sparse belongings (even took some of his friends' stash) and crept out of the room shared with five other men. He had not much time – punishment for desertion or its attempt would be keen, so he stole along the corridors as efficiently and unobtrusively as possible. Then _… oomph!_

"Wickham!" someone called jovially. "I was just on my way to see you, old friend!"

"Fitzwilliam!" cried Wickham, aghast. "What are you doing here? I have an appointment …" he said lamely.

David Fitzwilliam laughed. "Oh come now, George … not happy to see me?" His demeanor then changed into something more formidable. "T'is Colonel Fitzwilliam to you, Wickham. I am here on official business. Do not worry about your appointment – Miss Ellen there told us everything we needed to know."

Wickham, to his shock, found the woman from the tavern staring at him coldly. The colonel fiercely whispered, "You thought she would help you, after what you did to her sister who is now carrying your child? How many children now, Wickham? We have lost count. And now I hear you have tried to finagle your way with other women here in Hertfordshire as well!" Fitzwilliam raised a finger when Wickham tried to speak. "Ah, ah, ah! Do not waste my time, Wickham. You were witnessed at least two other times, even preying on one of gentle birth who was hardly more than a child! Tut-tut!"

"What are you blabbering about, Fitzwilliam?" Wickham said in a show of bravado. "Witnesses, you say? Perhaps one of your cousins … perhaps Geor … agh!"

Fitzwilliam had given him a sharp knuckle across the mouth. "Filthy as ever, I see. But I will indulge you. Two gentlemen have been following you around … you were too distracted to notice." For the first time, Wickham noticed two men nearby who, despite their huge frames, looked stealthy and light on their feet. They had steel in their eyes. Wickham gulped. _Baron von Meer's thugs! _Fitzwilliam laughed at Wickham's look of horror. "Come, old chap, Colonel Forster awaits my presence, as I have news for him from the London office regarding your pathetic self. _You _can wait in a holding room in the cellar." And Wickham was hauled away with nary a protest.

* * *

It must be noted that Colonel Forster was a decent man, if a little weak-willed – he had, after all, gotten his position mainly through family influence, as did many of his peers, and was not truly trained for a military authoritarian role. This event, however, of having his judgment, leadership _and _community impact questioned by citizens of the village, did much to shake him out of his complacency, and he had determined to begin making a strong statement of how his soldiers should behave – starting with the one subordinate who seemed to be the lynchpin of all of the merchants' complaints.

Almost as soon as the Meryton proprietors left, regiment was called to formation (a singular event as active training was over for now). Rules were streamlined, and one Lieutenant George Wickham was called front and center. Wickham's initial reaction was one of thrill, his vanity being such that he thought he was due a promotion and a commendation. Snapping to attention immediately, he marched up to his commanding officer – and was promptly informed that he was on day and night latrine duty and kitchen scrub for the whole week. His pay was also being garnished by half, "with that half being distributed among the Meryton merchants with whom you have outstanding debts, until such time as your debts have cleared," Colonel Forster told him. "And make no mistake, you will not get another pence of credit from them." The same reprimand was given the others, in as severe tones as could be. "Be warned, men – I will no longer tolerate profligacy with your wine and women!" With that, he charged his senior officers to dismiss their companies and curtly walked away, obliged to include this incident in his weekly report to the London office.

Now he sat in conference with a Colonel David Fitzwilliam of the Coldstream Regiment, as he expected from the express yesterday. Colonel Forster was sufficiently impressed and not just a tad curious that such a prestigious personage would take an interest in a member of the militia. Nonetheless, he resolved not to think too much on it. Wickham was the subject at hand.

"Add to these offenses that you have already reported, Colonel Forster," said Fitzwilliam, "are the charges of attempted desertion and thievery. A Miss Ellen Black would attest to events this morning, as Wickham made his attempt. Found also in his possession were his personal effects as well as those of the men assigned the same room as he. As to women, Colonel," here Fitzwilliam sighed, feeling compassion for the ladies harmed by the scoundrel, either by trickery and seduction, or by outright force, "I have testimonies on Wickham's character in this regard, but for purposes of delicacy and decency, I would prefer that the ladies' names and that of their families be not specified at all. I will be listed as reference. Wickham is little more than a common criminal, and oft not worthy of the color he wears."

Colonel Forster swallowed. "Your recommendation, sir?" he croaked.

"Fifty lashes and punishment to run the gauntlet, that he may be made an example of among your ranks. You did well with the garnishing of pay. However, this will soon be taken out of your hands, as London has deigned to sign him up for the regulars. He will be transferred two days hence, and I will see to the transfer myself."

"The regulars!" exclaimed Forster. "Somebody bought a commission for him?"

"No. More like conscripted. Where he is going, we need more able-bodied men who will be under strict watch at all hours. That, or he can rot in debtors' prison," Fitzwilliam replied. At the inquiring look on the other man's face, Fitzwilliam grinned. "West Indies. The fever islands, as they call it." Forster was not surprised. The Crown had been trying to recruit more men for the high sea colonies, but response had been very poor because of the rampant deaths – in fact, up to 40 percent at one time - from diseases and squalid living conditions in the area.

Forster blew out a breath. "Well! Alright, Colonel … shall we talk to Wickham, then?"

* * *

_Dear Mr. Bennet,_

_I realize this is most untoward, but I would be much obliged if you would allow Miss Elizabeth to read the accompanying note from me. I assure you it contains nothing improper; it is simply a note to let her know of my sister's arrival last night, along with that of my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Colonel Fitzwilliam is here to conduct official business with the regiment, specifically one militia officer we are acquainted with. I hope to bring your family pleasing news later._

_Your most obedient servant,_

_F. Darcy_

* * *

_Dearest Elizabeth,_

_I long to see you this morning, my dear lady, but I would have to defer my joy for now, though hopefully for just a little while. My sister Georgiana arrived last night; I am awaiting her coming to join me at the breakfast table, as I have promised to tell her all about you and what happiness you bring to me. I hope you will allow me to introduce her to your family at the earliest opportunity._

_It was my cousin Colonel David Fitzwilliam who accompanied her last night. He is here on military business involving a gentleman of our acquaintance. I am eagerly awaiting his report, which I pray would be pleasing to you and your family, and be a relief to me. I shall come to see you as soon as I able, dearest Elizabeth – are you as eager for our reunion as I am? I will only add – God bless you._

_Yours ever,_

_F.D._

Elizabeth clutched the short missive close to her heart, feeling the warmth she had come to associate with thoughts of William steal over her spirit. As soon as Papa gave her the note during luncheon (it was uncharacteristic of her to arise so close to midday), she asked to be excused and went to her little corner of the garden to peruse her treasured possession. Her feelings overwhelmed her then, as she realized that in so short a time, she had come to value this man like no other. _Is this love? _she asked herself. _Even when I started off disliking him so …?_

She smiled. She certainly did not dislike him now. No – any vestige of that had vanished completely, and she now felt ashamed of ever feeling so. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had in fact lodged itself securely in her mind. But above all - above respect and esteem - was a motive of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude - not merely for the esteem with which he held her, but gratitude for teaching her that all true regard, all real affection, could never be an end in itself, but that it actively sought the improvement of the other. To strive to reach out … to touch another's life … to make a positive impact – all these Elizabeth saw now as what she was missing. William had shown her that. She laughed. _And he said I taught him something! __It is he who has taught me the far better thing._

She had not realized she had walked all the way to Oakham Mount, until she got there. As she gazed at the panorama below, she saw that it had begun to snow. Just a very light blanketing of the vista, like a whisper of the skies. Then from the far right, Elizabeth saw two riders flying across the meadow. One she guessed as Mr. Bingley on the way to Longbourn, and the other … well, Elizabeth smiled. _I think I would know that figure anywhere,_ she thought to herself. _Hello, William._

Then as though she had called him out loud, she saw the riders slow, and after a brief conference, saw one head back the original direction, and William turn his steed toward her, riding with palpable excitement now. Elizabeth's heart beat faster. _Maybe__ … I … do … love him … _

Closer and closer he came, slowing at several dozen yards away, and with Kublai still at a trot, William dismounted and immediately started running toward Elizabeth. Even in motion, Elizabeth could see his soul in his eyes – _and it is just for me, _she thought wondrously._ Oh, would I that everyone could be so happy … _and chuckled at how suddenly like Jane she sounded.

William stopped a few feet from Elizabeth, and just stared. His eyes pierced her very soul, searching for something deep within her … but at the same time, dancing with the light of the sun. His lips were set in a soft smile, gently coaxing one from her in return … lips that were silent for now, but looked as though ready to break into an anthem of joy. Elizabeth stared back. Her breath was caught in the incredible sight before her. _I am loved ... I am cherished above all!_

Silent minutes passed. William took one step forward.

"Marry me."

In the quiet of the season's first snow, Elizabeth whispered ... _"Yes."_

* * *

**AN: One last chapter, then an epilogue … thanks so much for being a part of my journey.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Previously: Minutes of silence passed. Then William took one step forward. ****_"Marry me."_**

**In the quiet of the season's first snow, Elizabeth whispered, ****_"Yes."_**

* * *

Nobody quite knew who moved first. Snow was dusting everything all around them, lending an ethereal look to the already other-worldly presence of each other on Oakham Mount – but William and Elizabeth continued quietly to stand a few moments more, this time almost toe to toe and simply basking in each other's sight. All the rest of the world was gone. _Just Elizabeth and me, _William thought. _All through eternity, there will be Elizabeth and me. _William's heart could not contain his joy at this thought, and his eyes swam with tears – happy tears! – that he tried valiantly to blink away.

"William." Elizabeth's quiet voice came to him. "You do not need to hide your tears from me," she put one hand upon his chest, "for they are mine as well." William's lips trembled into a smile, as he took his beloved's hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

"I love you, Elizabeth Bennet," he whispered, and saw that she too had light tears on her cheeks, mingling with the snow that he longed to kiss away. "I love you today, and tomorrow even more, and I shall say this to you every day for the rest of my life." _  
_

Elizabeth gazed at him, wonder shining out of her eyes. _He is such a man_, she said to herself, _who would not speak unless he speaks from his heart. _Elizabeth wondered how she could ever be so blessed. _Oh, to be the one to bring this man the highest joy … I would die before I cause him a moment's pain!_

And there it was. The realization that she could live for one man, and one man only - that her joy was so closely intertwined with his, and that his pain would be hers also … _I love him, _Elizabeth whispered in her heart. _It is all so new, so different, and yet, I know – I swear I know – I love him!_

William watched as a dozen emotions sweep across Elizabeth's face - none of them alarming, that was true, and yet he could not help but feel a little trepidation. His breath was coming in shallowly now and he cast his eyes down, unsure of where else to look but realizing he would drown in her emerald eyes once more and would not come back intact.

Elizabeth unclasped her hand from his. He stiffened. Then swiftly and without hesitation, she held his face between her hands. "Fitzwilliam Darcy," she softly called. He kept his eyes on the ground. "William, please look at me." William finally lifted his eyes to hers, and her thumbs drew caressing lines on his face. "You are the dearest man I have ever known. You are kind and courageous, and sweet and tender, and yes, stubborn, but in mostly the right places. You open up a world for me that I never thought I would see. You claim that I have taught you something valuable, but surely you must know that it is _you _who is teaching me what it is truly like to love. I do not know what it is that made you choose me, William, but I am grateful. I will _forever_ be grateful. You have enthralled me – even bewitched me, body and soul - and I love … I love … I love you. I will spend all my life proving this to you, William."

William stared silently at her, his eyes blinking with emotion, and cupped Elizabeth's hand upon his face as he gazed tenderly at her. "Well then …" and turned to kiss her upturned palm again. His heart was beating so fast he suspected it would jump out of his chest soon. "I never wish to be parted from you from this day on, Elizabeth," he whispered. His eyes closed and let his forehead rest on hers in a way so worshipful it brought tears to Elizabeth's eyes. She too closed her eyes … and the two of them again let silence wrap them together in a world all their own.

"I love you … Mrs. Darcy." And in a moment they would remember forever, Fitzwilliam Darcy kissed Elizabeth's lips, gently, almost like a flutter of the wind, all in humble acknowledgment of the blessings that God had conferred.

* * *

Loathed as they were to break the spell of the moment, they knew they had to get back to Longbourn. So they walked, stretching as much as they could their private time together, with only Kublai as witness to their lovingly exchanged words, interspersed with a lot of teasing, for no matter how different their temperaments were, their turn of humor was delightfully similar. At one point, Elizabeth joked that William was much like her mother, in his propensity to worry overly much about trivial things as a coat.

William snorted. "Aye. And you will be the death of us, too," he retorted as he wrapped his great coat around Elizabeth's insufficiently clad shoulders. William fell into a pensive but contented silence, then said almost to himself, "She is remarkable, truly - once I really listened to her and saw things from the view of where she sits. Do you know, Elizabeth," he said after a pause, "she reminds me very much of you? I know she looks more like your sister … but her eyes – her heart – they are all _you._"

With a smile, Elizabeth said, "So I have been told. In fact, Mama herself alluded to it last night. She knew that you saw me in her."

"Did she, now?" William said, chuckling. "I knew she was more astute than she lets on. All it took was a little affirmation …"

Elizabeth stopped walking and faced William thoughtfully. "You are wonderful, you know that?" she softly asked. "I think it was because of something you said or did that awakened Mama to who she truly is – and she is on her way to having a much happier situation with life in general. Mama is fortunate to have a friend like you, William."

William thought on this a little while, then with all solemnity said, "A friend is well and good … but I think, Elizabeth, being her son would be an even greater honor. She will always have me, Lizzy. Never fear." Elizabeth knew he meant it.

They agreed before they reached Longbourn that they would keep the subject of their engagement until tomorrow, and devote today to updating Mr. and Mrs. Bennet on the subject of Wickham. Darcy had already given Elizabeth an account of what Colonel Fitzwilliam had been able to carry out, even the early morning flogging. Such news made Lizzy shudder, though she knew of such punishments. Then, suddenly reminded of Lydia's situation, Lizzy quickly began to relate the whole to Darcy – including the cause of the initial misunderstanding, even though it caused her some mortification to do so. But she had a purpose in asking. "William … could it be that Georgiana … I mean, girls can be ignorant of …" she stammered with some embarrassment.

"No." Darcy's voice was the most terse that she had ever heard from him, and Elizabeth was afraid of having offended him. Sensing her disquiet, Darcy took her hand. "Forgive me – I do not mean to be short with you. This is simply a very painful subject. But no, I'm afraid there was no doubt of Wickham having …" he was unable to continue for a while, until he eked out a pained whisper, "I was there. I did not tell Georgiana of my coming because I wanted to surprise her. Then I saw …" Memories, unvoiced, crowded Darcy's mind: him dragging Wickham out of bed and hitting him repeatedly, Mrs. Younge stepping between them, and him unintentionally but unapologetically hitting her; then him desperately attending to Georgiana, witnessing her physical discomfort at having been taken roughly … then seeing the stains on the sheets …. William held off an agonized sob, and sought to cover it. "Elizabeth, I must apologize … pray, do not think ill of Georgiana. I have been at fault …"

Elizabeth's heart broke in compassion for the siblings. "William. No. There is nothing to apologize for. You may not be able to talk about it now, nor soon … and I may not know many things of the world, but I am always willing to listen. I will not turn away, and neither will I judge. And I," here she faced William squarely, "I will love Georgiana as my own sister. She is a part of you, therefore she is a part of me. You, Fitzwilliam Darcy, are not at fault in all of this."

Then, with a firm squeeze of his arm and a gentle smile, Elizabeth led the way into the Longbourn parlor.

* * *

How surprised they were – and pleased – to find that Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana were already there with the Longbourn ladies _and _Mr. Bennet. It was a merry party, in fact … Stephen and Louisa Hurst had arrived with the colonel and Georgiana, and Bingley, of course, had ridden earlier on to see his Jane. Walking in, Elizabeth picked out the Darcy sister at once, as did William, and were both relieved to see her quite engaged with Mary on the pianoforte, shyly giving a few pointers to a very receptive Mary on a difficult musical passage she had been working on. Kitty was watching them, curious about Georgiana (they were of the same age) but not wanting to intrude – until Mary herself pulled Kitty onto the pianoforte bench beside them to ask, "Do you want to learn a simple tune, Kitty? Miss Georgiana and I will show you." The girls spent the next few minutes giggling at missed notes and Kitty not minding her mistakes one whit.

Mr. Bennet was talking with the colonel and Mr. Hurst about the war on the continent – and just for sport, they took turns deriding the "Corsican with an overblown sense of self."

Naturally, Bingley and Jane were over in one corner, whispering about angels and such, and smiling entirely too much.

Louisa Hurst was sharing some fashion sketchbooks with Mrs. Bennet and Lydia – and to Louisa's surprise, Lydia had some economical and creative ideas for slight alterations on some of the designs, and the three were thoroughly engrossed in the discussion.

William and Elizabeth took this entire domestic scene all at once and felt a sense of home. For the lonely Master of Pemberley, it felt like "family", and he sighed contentedly._ Discussing Wickham is unpalatable and thus can wait until later_, he thought. Unconsciously, William reached out sideways to take Elizabeth's hand, and laced his fingers with hers … and it was at that moment when Mrs. Bennet looked up from the sketches amid Mrs. Hurst's comments, and saw the newly-arrived couple by the door. She stared at their joined hands for a while, and then her eyes went to Mr. Darcy's face as she arched her brows.

Darcy simply grinned at her, and refused to relinquish Elizabeth's hand despite the latter's gentle tug.

_Oh, the sudden glow on the matron's face as she stood up straight!_ Mrs. Bennet looked away for a while, trying to keep her happy tears at bay, then gazed again at the young man. Elizabeth knew that her William was once more communicating in that wordless way of his, and with a little squeeze of his hand (and a furtive smile at her mother), let go and went to join the trio on the pianoforte, to be introduced to her future sister Georgiana.

Mrs. Bennet approached Mr. Darcy quietly, wordlessly gazing up into that face where she thought she saw vestiges of a shy and quiet little boy who only wanted to have a family to call his own. Darcy in turn gazed back to see an angel at last learning to use her wings. He knew that it was a break in etiquette - he still had to speak with Mr. Bennet - but he had to let this dear lady _know._

For in that inexplicable way of the universe, these two uncanny souls had bonded and forged a friendship unlike anything they had ever known.

"Mother," whispered one.

There was a quick intake of breath, and just as quietly, came the sweet, heartfelt reply ... "_Son_."

* * *

**AN: End of the story, and didn't we come full circle? Now, just an epilogue to cover the wedding and entail resolution. Thanks, everyone. You have all been a blessing.**


	17. EPILOGUE

**EPILOGUE**

Theirs was to be a mid-April wedding, hopefully beyond winter's capricious reach. The long engagement tried the patience of Mr. Darcy who wanted his bride within the month – but with the idea forwarded (and permission requested and granted) for a double wedding with Jane and Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Bennet insisted on perfection. From wedding dresses to the entire trousseau, from wedding menu to decorations, there was nothing to be done that she would not do herself. Esther Bennet was determined to bring about the "best weddings that Meryton has ever seen!"

And so it was. The small village church was filled to overflowing, as many wanted to see not just the "jewels of Hertfordshire" get married, but also the illustrious guests of the grooms. An exalted judge from Darcy's father's side was in attendance, as well as his son, a Navy commander. On the distaff side were an Earl and countess, the viscount and his wife and a few other wealthy cousins, titled or not. Though none of the Bingley contingent could boast of family connections as the Fitzwilliams and Darcys, they were nonetheless very well-heeled and fashionable. Caroline did not attend, preferring to stay in London to work out her anger. A few university friends of both grooms added to the glitter, making it truly a congregation like no other.

Elizabeth was pleased to see Colonel David Fitzwilliam again, as he had consented to be William's best man as Stephen Hurst was to be Charles'. David had become a good friend to her and a staunch big brother to Kitty and Lydia. When the colonel first started interacting with her sisters, Elizabeth felt slightly nervous that her younger sisters' fascination with men in uniform would prove detrimental (_not to mention embarrassing_, she thought). But David immediately put any infatuation from the girls to rights and treated them no differently from Georgiana, even mildly rebuking them on occasion when Lydia's exuberance went beyond decorum. Soon, the giddy attention directed toward Colonel Fitzwilliam turned into respect, punctuated by a few teasing episodes typical of siblings. Elizabeth was grateful.

Elizabeth now stood by the window of the anteroom in the church, having finished the final touches to her attire. She and Jane wanted just a few minutes together alone before their lives completely changed. "I love you, Janey," whispered Elizabeth as she held her sister – to which Jane replied, touching her forehead to Lizzy's, "Bethy Grace, you will always be my dearest friend." Then they basked in that comfortable silence that straddled the bittersweet edge of the past and the hopeful threshold of the future for each of them.

Elizabeth thought of her last four months as an engaged woman. At around the Christmas week when the Darcys left for Pemberley to prepare the estate for the arrival of the Mistress, Elizabeth felt all the loneliness of William's absence. She _did_ enjoy the visit of her dearest relatives from London (and delighted in the lavish winter ball hosted by Charles and Louisa), but separation from William was harder than she imagined. How melancholy she often was, despite – or perhaps because of - letters that flew between Longbourn and Pemberley.

The Darcys' return to Hertfordshire in mid-January, accompanied by Colonel Fitzwilliam, was therefore a high point for her. Her fiancée came bearing gifts for everyone in Longbourn. She herself received, aside from an exquisite engagement ring that belonged to William's grandmother, a daintily jeweled fan with _Elizabeth Darcy_ embossed in pearl at the handle. _So thoughtful_, smiled Elizabeth.

William's gift for Mrs. Bennet piqued Elizabeth's curiosity. She heard her mother gasp, then chuckle, as she opened the package, cradling in her hands a ceramic reproduction of a famous Italian painting. Mrs. Bennet reverently whispered, _La Gioconda_, and from the tone of her voice, Elizabeth knew that there was a story behind that offering. The miniature now hung in her mother's bedchamber, at a place of honor. When she learned from William what the anecdote was regarding that gift, Elizabeth fell in love with William even more. _I have much to know about Mama … William, you have changed my family so much ..._

Elizabeth had no idea her thoughts would be proven true in a big way.

* * *

A lone rider trotted up to the church. Quickly dismounting, he heaved a tired sigh as he retrieved a packet from his satchel. _I hate riding through the night, _he said to himself as he wearily trudged up the steps. _I hope I am not too late. This was to be delivered before the wedding._

Thankfully, the ceremony had not yet begun. As surreptitiously as he could, the rider walked up to the front and tapped Mr. Darcy's arm. Darcy gasped when he saw who it was, then without ceremony grabbed the packet the man held out. Ripping open the flap, he scanned the contents, sat down ashen-faced and breathed. A murmur rose from the crowd. "Darcy, what the dickens is going on?" David whispered furiously, and received only a blank stare from his cousin.

Mr. Bennet stepped up to him and spoke in a suspicious, almost frigid, tone. "Mr. Darcy, what is the meaning of this?" the patriarch asked in a clipped voice. Wordlessly, Mr. Darcy stood up and quietly handed Mr. Bennet the document. His heart sinking at the thought of a myriad negative possibilities, Mr. Bennet quickly read from the paper, his eyes growing bigger at each line. Towards the end, he exclaimed under his breath, "Oh, my God …" and looked up to see Mr. Darcy's ecstatic eyes.

"It is done, sir. Mr. Collins has sold his rights to the entail. Longbourn is yours."

* * *

Mary Bennet and Louisa Hurst had come to pick up the brides. "It is time," they said, bringing both brides out of their reveries. As Elizabeth stood, she faced Mary and thanked her, touching her cheek affectionately. "You look so lovely, dear sister."

Mary smiled shyly. She had been aglow ever since Elizabeth asked her to stand up for her at her wedding, since Jane had Louisa Hurst do it for hers. She had always heard herself described as the "plain one," and never let on even once how much that description hurt her. But today, she knew she was not plain, she was every bit a beautiful Bennet girl. Still, Mary allowed only a quiet smile. "Thank you, Lizzy. I am sure it is only because of the exquisite gown that Lydia designed for me."

Louisa disagreed. "Oh, Mary … you look absolutely beautiful, and the dress has little to do with it. You are lovely in your own right. Now come, everyone … your grooms must be getting anxious, but your Papa not quite." They laughed at this, and with a last smile, Jane and Elizabeth stepped out of the antechamber into their new lives.

The church hall fell silent when the music started and the vestibule door opened. Mary and Louisa stepped in, themselves glowing in the glory of the occasion. And finally the brides … Mr. Bennet had one on each arm, and he knew it was going to be the longest march of his life. After what had been revealed earlier, he had not the foggiest idea how he even made it to the halfway point. His legs were shaking, and his heart was ready to burst._ Oh, Lizzy … see what your Mr. Darcy has wrought!_

Years later, Elizabeth would remember Papa during that bridal march as absolutely teary - attributing it, however, solely to the emotions of the weddings of TWO of his daughters. But right now, all she could think about was the man waiting for her at the altar._ I am coming._

William, too, saw no one else but his bride. Their eyes locked as she came forward in pace with the music, and his heart whispered, _I would lay down my life for you, Elizabeth … I will make you happy, and I will keep you safe. I swear this before God in heaven. _In the hush of the sanctuary, within the strains of the music, Elizabeth heard his voice, and knew that William's heart had spoken._ I love you, William. Always._

Then there she was. Mr. Bennet handed each bride to her respective groom, lingering just a little more with Elizabeth. He leaned to whisper closely in her ear, "I could not have parted with you, my Lizzy, to anyone less worthy." And tearfully, he kissed both Jane and Elizabeth and went to stand by his wife who herself had tears. "Tis a new day, Esther," he whispered, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips.

Mrs. Bennet whispered back, "More than that, Avery … tis a new life."

_"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today …"_

* * *

_My husband. Fitzwilliam Gerald Darcy._

In the wee morning hours in the elegant Darcy townhouse in London, Elizabeth Grace Darcy gazed lovingly at the man sleeping beside her, the sinewy muscles of his strong shoulders peeking from under the sheet. Elizabeth could not help but touch him again, as if trying to make sure that she did not simply dream it all. Their wedding night had been beyond beautiful –passionate and lustful, to be sure, even frenetic in some instances … but oh, the sacred union of two hearts that loved completely and utterly was sublime and simply beyond words. Elizabeth trusted William with all her heart … and he brought her to the highest joy and pleasure imaginable, and taught her to do the same.

_Can any man be more generous? _Elizabeth then remembered the broken entail on Longbourn, and found herself almost in tears. Papa told her about it – how William had gotten Mr. Collins to agree to surrender the entail in exchange for an estate just bordering Essex, with a small lump sum to start him off. The Essex estate, which Darcy's manager recently found for sale, was slightly smaller than Longbourn, pulling in 1800 per annum but with great potential for more. The prospect of possessing an estate now and deriving income from it rather than waiting for his inheritance was a considerable pull to Mr. Collins, and after great deliberation (doubtless with heavy input from the ever-practical Charlotte Collins), he consented. The papers were finalized and received only on the morning of the wedding – and here Mr. Bennet related with great relish the consternation caused by Mr. Darcy's shocked expression by the altar. "But it all worked out for the best," he finished with a chuckle.

"Are you not supposed to be asleep?" whispered her husband, startling Elizabeth. With one fluid motion, he gathered Lizzy in his arms, skin upon skin inflaming them both at once, but both feeling content in their intimate embrace. "I'm sorry I startled you."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I could not sleep," she confessed. There was a moment's quiet. "I want to thank you again …"

William silenced her with a kiss. "You have already thanked me enough, Lizzy. Truly."

"No, William," she protested, and straightened up in bed, "never enough. Fitzwilliam, do you not realize you have changed not just my family's future, but the future of the entire Bennet bloodline? That should resonate with you, surely!"

"Elizabeth," William sighed as he sat up as well, "that is all I thought about when I did what I did. Do you not understand it yet? Your bloodline has become _my _bloodline. By signing that accord with Collins, I have made sure that Longbourn stays with one of my descendants. Your family has tenancy for life, and your father can start making the improvements on the estate that he is now eager to implement - and when the time comes, which I pray will not be soon, one of our sons will take over as Master, or we can will it as we choose to anyone in the Bennet line. Truly, love, it was a sound business decision."

Elizabeth sniffed. "Well, you did not make it for the sound business decision."

"No," William said, chuckling. "I made it because I love you."

"And my mother," Elizabeth added mischievously.

"And your mother," William acquiesced as he kissed his wife's nose. "But I admit to taking advantage of a situation. Lady Catherine had just yelled horrendously at Collins for having failed to secure you, you know – that was in late January when David and I went to Kent to personally deliver my invitation to my aunt – and she truly did humiliate the poor man. I wanted to let him know that there was another option to his benefit, and that he need not suffer degradation from anybody. Mrs. Collins was easily persuaded, but I did not hear from Mr. Collins until the day of the wedding, when the final documents were delivered to me. Until then, I did not want to raise hopes."

"You are a good man, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"You think so? I hope to be. Now," he said as he gently pushed his wife back down into the bed and nibbled on her neck, causing Lizzy to giggle, "I think we should stop talking about Collins now. He ruins the moment for me. Where should we go, Mrs. Darcy? Another trip to heaven?"

"If we must …" Lizzy sighed theatrically, and William playfully tickled her. The early morning maid walking the halls of the townhouse startled at the loud shriek that came from the mistress' chamber, followed by her happy laugh that was partnered with the deeper tones of the Master. She smiled. _Laughter had long been absent around here. Thank the Lord for the coming happier times._

* * *

_December 29, 1812_

_Dear Mother, _

_I thought it best to let you know before you journey to Pemberley in a fortnight for the confinement, that the next generation of Darcys have decided on their own schedule._

_Last night at almost midnight, Charles David Darcy and Avery Bennet Darcy were born, both healthy and feisty and ready to take on the world. You would be proud._

_I have much to thank you for, Mother, but I will wait until you come and celebrate personally with us. Until then, I only want to say that I feel very blessed, and you have a big share in why._

_Elizabeth sends her regards. She is recovering nicely but is a little exhausted, so I thought I might do her this little service. Please give your husband the accompanying note. I eagerly await your coming._

_I am, ever your grateful son,_

_William_

* * *

_Dear Sir,_

_Your new grandsons await. Charles David Darcy and Avery Bennet Darcy, born December 28 to a tired but happy Elizabeth. She is doing well._

_The heir to Pemberley and the heir to Longbourn, sir. We have much to thank God for. Come as soon as you can._

_Your faithful servant,_

_F.D._

* * *

**AN: What an exciting experience this has been! Thank you, all. You have been wonderful. Maybe we'll see each other again.**


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